Shades of Grey: Althea's Story
by SpoonyLupin
Summary: When Althea Jameson graduates Hogwarts, she thinks her future is set, but her world is turned upside down when she's bitten by a werewolf and becomes the very thing she was taught to hate. She must learn to survive the harsh reality she finds herself in. Even if it means seeking help from the most savage werewolf that's ever lived. [A prequel/companion piece to Love Sees More 3.]
1. Chapter 1: Misplaced Trust

**Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

_Author's note: This is a prequel/companion piece to 'Love Sees More 3: Greyback's Pack', so they could probably be read in any order._

**Shades of Grey: Althea's Story**  
Chapter 1 - Misplaced Trust

"I hate it there." Eighteen-year-old Althea Jameson plopped down on the sofa in her parents' sitting room, miserably running a hand through her long, golden blond hair.

That disappointed expression fell across her mother's face again. The one she always wore whenever they had this conversation. It was like someone had let all the air out of her, and Althea was never really sure why; her parents both knew exactly how she felt about this.

"Honey," her mother, Brooke said, sitting down next to her. "Tell me what's so bad about it." She even had that tone in her voice, the one that suggested that Althea had absolutely no reason to complain.

"We've talked about this," Althea said in exasperation. "This isn't what I want to do with my life. I don't want to work in a boring office forever."

"Working for the Ministry is a worthwhile profession," her mother reasoned. "It's something you'll be able to rely on for years to come, because we're always going to need a government, and you'll earn a good amount of money. I know you had this fanciful idea that you could be an artist, and I wish you could follow your dreams. I really do, but it just isn't something you'll be able to count on to support yourself. What are you going to do when you have children to feed one day, and you can't sell a painting to save your life?"

"But I could do it, Mum. If I only had a chance to try."

"By all means, try all you like!" her mother exclaimed. "I'm not trying to discourage you at all. Painting is fine for a hobby or even to make a few extra Galleons on the side. I just don't think it's safe to make it your life." She reached out for Althea's hand, grasping it tightly. "I just want you to have a good life. I want you to be successful, and I want you to be financially secure. That's all."

"I don't know why that means I have to work at the Ministry of all places." Althea turned to face her mother, hoping she'd finally be able to get her to see sense. "You're right, I may not make it as an artist at all, and it's good to have a steady job otherwise, at least until I know for sure. I understand that. But…I just don't like it at the Ministry. Everyone there is so serious, and…it's just not a fun place to be."

"It's our place of government," her mother pointed our around a smirk. "It's not supposed to be fun."

"But don't you think I should at least have a job that I enjoy?" Althea asked. "If I can't make it as an artist myself, maybe I can at least find something in the art field. Maybe I can find an already successful artist who needs an assistant or something. Or even just something in an art shop somewhere."

"That sounds like Muggle work," her mother said disdainfully. "And what happens when those businesses lose money? What if you're forced out of work, and you're desperately looking for something else to support yourself? Like I keep telling you, the Ministry is something that's going to be there even a hundred years from now. We need government, and we need good, responsible people to run it. And if you keep at it, if you keep trying to work your way up, imagine where you might be when you're my age. You might even get to be the next female Minister of Magic! Wouldn't that be wonderful? To make all of our laws? To make sure we remain a good society of wizards?"

Althea shook her head. "That's your dream, not mine."

"One that I wasn't able to achieve." Her mother finally released her hand and leaned back against the sofa. "I tried, and I wasn't even able to get my foot in the door of the Ministry. Even getting an entry-level position there can be impossibly difficult, and that's something you already have." She paused, watching her daughter carefully. "Don't forget the amount of strings your father had to pull to get you in there. An eighteen-year-old, fresh out of Hogwarts with no previous job experience - you're lucky they even considered you!"

"I know," Althea sighed, "and I'm grateful to have had the opportunity. I am. I wasn't happy about it then, but I decided to at least give it chance. You and dad said that I just had to try it for a little while, and if I didn't like it, I wouldn't have to stay. That I could try and find something else, something that's more suited to me."

Her mother took a moment to push her short, curly red hair back from her face. She looked like she was trying very hard to keep her composure, because just like her fiery hair might indicate, Brooke definitely had a bit of a temper. Althea knew that her cause was now lost, because once her mother started to get annoyed, there was no reasoning with her whatsoever.

"You've only been there for six months," Brooke said curtly after a few seconds of silence. "I hardly think that's enough time to be able to judge it accurately. Why don't you give it a little more time, maybe six more months? Once you've been there for a year, we can all sit down as a family and discuss it again."

Althea closed her eyes in defeat, simply nodding. She knew that things wouldn't be any different in six months or even six years. They'd already had this conversation more times than she could count since she started her job at the Ministry. Every single time, it ended exactly the same way, with her parents encouraging her to give it more time. Althea knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt that she'd never be able to get through to them. They were so set in their decisions, the ones they had made for her. They'd never even entertain any of the ones Althea made for herself. They wanted her to be a Ministry employee and that was that. Whatever Althea herself wanted didn't matter. Not to them.

Little did Althea know that her time as a Ministry of Magic employee was about to come to a screeching halt. It was something she had been praying for for months, but once it happened, she'd be desperately wishing for her boring old Ministry job back, because her life was about be plunged into a nightmare. One that she wouldn't be able to wake up from no matter how hard she tried.

* * *

Exactly twenty-four hours later, Althea found herself back at the place she dreaded the most - her desk in the Ministry of Magic - with absolutely no end in sight. There were mounds of papers in front of her waiting to be organized and filed, and as far as she knew, Althea would be there doing nothing but that for the foreseeable future.

Althea rested her elbow on her desk and propped her chin up in her hand. She glared at the stacks of parchment, wondering if anyone would notice if she just used her wand to set fire to them all. There were so many damned papers at the Ministry, it seemed like all she did was file them all day long, and she doubted anyone would really miss a stack here or there.

Just then, the door behind her opened, the one that led to her father's office. Althea immediately sat up straight in her chair, rummaging around with the papers in front of her, trying to look like she was busy.

Her father, Nolan came around her desk, holding a large file folder in one hand. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a scrutinizing stare, his brown hair causally falling into his hazel eyes. "That stack of papers looks to be about the same size it was when we came in this morning."

"I've been working all day!" Althea exclaimed, annoyed at her father's insinuation. She desperately hated her job, but it was still her job; she wasn't about to shirk a responsibility that she was hired to do, no matter how much she abhorred it. She did eventually grow tired and discouraged at the amount of work by the end of the day, but she still plowed on through most of it. She was a Hufflepuff, after all, and they were unafraid of toil. "I can't help it if more papers come in faster than I can sort through them."

Her father let out a heavy breath. "I'm sorry, Ally. I know things have been unusually hectic around here lately. It's just that damned Fenrir Greyback. He's been attacking more people than we can keep up with. I don't know what You-Know-Who's even thinking, using him as a tool. I don't necessarily think You-Know-Who has the wrong idea about things, you know that, but Merlin only knows what he hopes to accomplish with Greyback."

"Blackmail," Althea stated simply.

"Yes," her father agreed, "but You-Know-Who's a fool if he thinks it won't eventually backfire. Everyone knows Greyback sees it as his mission in life to make enough werewolves to overcome the wizarding population, and then what? You-Know-Who himself despises werewolves, as he should, so he's encouraging Greyback to make more, thinking they'll all dutifully follow him?" Nolan rolled his eyes. "It's utterly ridiculous. Before he knows it, there are going to be far more werewolves in this world than he knows what to do with. He's not going to be able to control them all, and he's going to be sorry. But he isn't thinking that far ahead. All he cares about right now is gaining power, and that's what Greyback is giving him, the hell with the consequences." He shook his head before adding, "This world is going to be overrun with animals someday, and there won't be a damned thing anyone will be able to do to stop it."

Althea didn't reply. She never knew what to say when her father got into these ranting moods about how the world was going to end up in shambles one day if it continued on its current course.

Nolan seemed to realize this, because he said, "But that's neither here nor there. I guess we'll cross that bridge if and when we come to it, won't we?" He held the file folder out to her. "Here. Run this down to the Werewolf Registry office, and then you can go. It's a list of all those believed to have been recently contaminated by Greyback and his minions, and who _should_ be registered by now."

Althea wanted to ask him why any werewolf in their right mind would register with the Ministry. It was simply so the Ministry could keep track of them when they hadn't even done anything wrong. If werewolves were smart, she thought, they'd stay far away from the Ministry and try to keep their condition hidden. Given, it was illegal for them not to register, but it still seemed safer than letting the Ministry keep track of every single thing they ever did.

That was another reason why Althea hated her job so much. She was helping the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures when she didn't even believe in half of what they were doing. Her father was the head of the Werewolf Support Services, and she couldn't help thinking what a joke that name was. The Ministry's idea of supporting werewolves was to inform them of the Code of Conduct, and to report them to the Werewolf Capture Unit if they didn't follow those rules down to the letter.

Althea didn't think werewolves deserved to be punished just because they were attacked by some deranged monster like Greyback. In the end, however, Althea never said a word. Neither of her parents liked werewolves, and they didn't think werewolves deserved any rights at all, regardless of how they ended up in their position. Her parents never even really asked her what she thought about it. Because they believed one thing, because they had raised her a certain way, they only assumed that she felt the same. Moreover, because her father worked for the Werewolf Support Services, they figured that was what Althea would want to do as well.

They didn't even like to hear any other opinions on the matter, and they often got angry at anyone who attempted to change their minds. Althea never stood up to them like she wanted to, because she was terrified of earning their wrath, as ridiculous as that sounded. She just wasn't that brave.

Althea simply reached out for the folder, giving her father a smile and getting up from her desk. At least she could go home for a while and pretend like she didn't hold a job that made her feel sick to her stomach. As she headed for the door, her father called to her one last time.

"Tell your mum I might be a little late tonight," he said. "There are even more reports of werewolf attacks coming in as we speak, and I should compile another list before I leave. The two of you should go on and eat without me. I'll most likely grab something on my way home."

Althea didn't have it in her to voice a response, so she nodded. She pulled the office door shut behind her, unaware that it was a message she would never get to deliver.

* * *

Althea didn't go straight home. She Apparated to a spot that she was beginning to frequent with more and more regularity, a place that she went to when she needed some time to be alone and think. It was a forest not far from where she lived with her parents, one where they had often gone on picnics when Althea was little.

That was why she loved the forest so much. It reminded her of those days. Things had been so much simpler then. Althea had still been in school, and she hadn't yet needed to think about what she wanted to do for a living. Her parents hadn't yet started to push their ideas on her about what she should be doing or what she should believe. It hadn't been a struggle just to talk to them, feeling like she was outnumbered two to one on everything.

The woods were especially spectacular now with it being October. The leaves were beginning to change into brilliant hues of red, yellow, and orange, and many of them already littered the forest floor. The sound of them crunching underneath her shoes as she walked and the smell of the autumn crispness simply invigorated her. Perhaps it was because her birthday was just a few weeks off. She supposed it always made October feel like her month, like she truly belonged in it.

One of the things that amused her the most was that werewolves were rumored to inhabit the area. If her parents didn't like werewolves, they sure picked a stupid spot to settle down and have a family. Althea had been warned time and time again not to wander about in the woods alone, and to never set foot in them after dark. Doing so would simply be asking for trouble. The funny thing was that Althea never felt in danger when she was in the forest. In fact, being in the shelter of the trees somehow made her feel more at home than she ever did with her parents. Perhaps because there wasn't anyone around to judge her, no one to order her around and plan out her life for her. In the forest, she was free.

Althea wasn't stupid enough to remain in the woods after dark, especially not during a full moon, but she didn't see what was so wrong with taking a walk in the light of day. Most werewolves were only a danger once they transformed. Sure, there were homicidal werewolves like Greyback who attacked whenever they could, but she knew for a fact that they weren't all like that. Besides, even if Greyback was lurking around a tree somewhere, what reason would he have to attack Althea? Didn't he mostly attack those that had either offended him or the Dark Lord himself? Neither Althea nor her parents had ever even interacted with any Death Eaters at all; she didn't think he'd have a reason to even take notice of her, let alone bite or attack her.

She wasn't exactly keen on listening to what her parents told her anyway. They never took any notice of what she said or what she wanted, so why should she give them that respect in return? It occurred to Althea that she was being ridiculously immature about this entire thing, but she didn't care. In fact, perhaps it was time that she started thinking for herself a little bit. If she kept letting her parents dictate her life to her, she knew she was going to end up absolutely miserable.

Aside from her lack of courage, the only thing holding her back was her parents' reaction. Despite the way they treated her sometimes, she knew that they did love her and that they were looking out for her. After all, her parents valued money and success very highly, so much so that they equated it with happiness. They were only trying to ensure that Althea herself could have those things as well. They weren't Althea's idea of happiness, but she supposed she couldn't exactly fault her parents for having different ideals than she did. That was precisely what she disliked about her parents so much to begin with - their intolerance for anything different.

As much as her parents drove her absolutely nutters sometimes, they were still her parents, and Althea loved them desperately. She was terrified of doing anything to disappoint them, even if it meant sacrificing her own happiness to make them proud. She knew exactly how dysfunctional that made her family, and she promised herself that if she ever had children, she would never impose those same restrictions on them.

Althea wasn't even sure that that was something she wanted - children. It was just another thing her parents assumed about her, that she would settle down with a family just like every other generation before her. Althea was only eighteen, nineteen in a few more weeks. She had plenty of time to decide on that later, plenty of time decide if following in her parents' footsteps was something she really wanted. As it was, the only thing she really wanted right then was to paint and to see if she could have success with it. If she didn't even try, she knew she'd spent her entire life wondering what if. She just didn't know if it was worth alienating her parents, and she was aware of just how insane that sounded. Shouldn't her own happiness be the most important thing to her?

Sighing heavily, Althea leaned into a tree near a stream that meandered through the woods. It was one of her favorite places to sit and think, the constantly running water always managing to soothe her jangled nerves. Pressing her back up against the trunk of the tree, she sunk to the ground and pulled her knees up to her chest. She folded her arms over them and rested her chin on top of them, staring ahead at the stream as if it might hold some sort of answers for her.

The orange ball of sun was dipping down toward the horizon, shining through the leaves on the trees and making their colors even more vibrant. Althea absolutely loved this time of day, and she thought she might stay just long enough to watch the sunset. As soon as it got dark, as soon as the moon showed signs of rising, she'd Apparate back home. No sense in asking for trouble.

However, the longer she sat there, the more she watched the sun's decent in the sky, the more her eyelids began to droop. She didn't even realize it. She had grown so comfortable in what she had come to think of as her domain, it didn't cross her mind that she could be putting herself in danger. That something could be out there lurking, waiting to change her life forever.

* * *

When Althea opened her eyes again, she was met with complete and utter darkness. At first, she was still too groggy from sleep to even register what had happened or where she was. It took her a moment to realize that she was sitting hunched over against the trunk of her favorite tree. She rubbed at her eyes harshly, wondering what time it was. Her mother had been expecting her home for dinner, so Althea hoped that it wasn't too late. She was never one to simply miss plans like that, so chances were her mother would be worried if she had.

Althea stretched her arms out over her head, attempting to further wake herself up. It wouldn't do to return home half asleep. Just as Althea began to get up from the now damp grass, she heard a loud snapping sound from somewhere behind her in the darkness. She sucked in a breath, turning and peering into the blackness of the trees beyond. Nothing moved, nothing made a sound, and Althea shook her head. It was most probably a rabbit or some other harmless animal, scurrying away into a burrow when they heard her stir. There was no reason to think that whatever it was meant her any harm. No reason at all.

Even so, Althea got to her feet, making a mental note to never remain in the woods after dark again. She was still certain that there wasn't anything that would hurt her, but no forest in the dead of night was a welcoming or friendly place. Certainly not what she had been looking for when she first Apparated there after work.

Althea closed her eyes and focused her thoughts on her new destination - the walkway leading up to her parents' house. Before she could Disapparate, however, she heard something else. Something that chilled her to the bone much more so than a snapping twig had done. It was a growl. A low guttural sound that could only have come from something large.

Althea's eyes snapped open again, fear driving all rational thought from her mind. She squinted her eyes, trying desperately to see into the blackness that surrounded her. She immediately reached inside her robes, going for wand, but she didn't even get that far.

Before she even realized what was happening, something hit her squarely in the chest. She started falling backwards, her arms shooting out in all directions, desperately trying to catch herself on something. All her fingers found were useless twigs and brambles, which scratched and tore at her skin on the way down. When her back slammed into the forest floor, a large gasp of air was forced from her lungs. She desperately tried to suck it back in, but something very large and heavy had settled into place over her chest.

It was still too dark, and she was still too disoriented from her fall to register much of what was happening. All she felt was heaviness and fur on top of her which smelled horribly of dirt and sweat. She heard that deep growl again, and the next thing she knew, something sharp was tearing through her clothes and into her flesh. She cried out in pain as a warm wetness spread out under what remained of her shirt.

Althea started kicking and punching at the creature that was pinning her down, but she was absolutely no match for it. Whatever it was, it was huge, and her efforts to hurt it didn't even seem to affect the animal at all. Next, her hands went to her pocket, searching out the handle of her wand, but it wasn't there. It must have been knocked free from her clothes by the creature's attacks.

Unsure of what else to do, Althea opened her mouth and screamed. She screamed bloody murder, hoping to rouse the attention of anyone who might be in the area. She yelled until she was sure her voice would be permanently hoarse from the effort, and even then, she continued to cry out into the darkness. No one came. There was no one there. No one except for her and the huge hulking thing atop her.

She only stopped screaming when she felt an intense pain in her right hip. It was much stronger than anything else the animal had done thus far, and it sent lightning bolts of pain resounding through her entire leg and abdomen. It felt like nails were being driven right into her very bone, and the pain began to creep up into her chest. Her voice died in her throat, only to be replaced strained gasps for air.

A horrible thought occurred to her. She was going to die. This creature was going to tear her to shreds, and there might not even be anything left by the time someone did find her.

Althea couldn't focus on anything. Everything seemed like a swirl of pain, and growls, and blood, and fear around her. Her eyes began to roll back in her head, and the very last thing she saw was the impossibly full moon hanging high in the sky above her.

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2: Shattered Hope

**Shades of Grey: Althea's Story**  
Chapter 2 - Shattered Hope

The next time Althea opened her eyes, everything was a swirl of sensations around her. She couldn't quite focus her eyes at first, and her field of vision was nothing but a mess of colors. She thought she could hear people talking, but it all seemed jumbled and nothing made sense to her. She smelled cleaning supplies so strong, they made her head pound. Her skin felt itchy all over like she had been covered in poison ivy, and everything hurt.

It was almost like waking up after a bout with a long fever when things still felt completely disorientating. Althea took some deep breaths and closed her eyes. She rubbed at them, hoping that the world around her would make sense the next time she opened them.

Things were still blurry, so she blinked her eyes, objects slowly forming and taking shape around her. The first thing she realized was that the room she was in was mostly white, and a very scary thought occurred to her. The last thing she could remember was leaving work and Apparating to her favorite forest. She thought she'd fallen asleep there, but everything went strangely blank after that. Had she died? She didn't quite feel normal anymore, and perhaps this was what death was like.

But no. As she looked around, more and more things started to make sense to her. She was in a bed in a very long room, surrounded by even more beds with people sleeping in them. Some were sectioned off with curtains, and they all had bed trays on wheels next to them, some of them with trays of food. She was in the hospital.

She desperately tried to think back to the night before - if it had even been last night - but for the life of her, she couldn't remember what had happened after she'd fallen asleep. Then it occurred to her that she might still be sleeping, curled up on the forest floor, and that this was all a dream. It would certainly make more sense than something happening to her that she couldn't even remember.

"Oh, good. You're awake."

It took Althea a moment to register that whoever had spoken, it had been directed at her. She looked around to see a young black woman with her hair in a bun coming towards her. The woman set down a tray on Althea's bedside table with a noisy clank, and Althea flinched away from it.

"How do you feel?" the woman asked loudly.

Althea looked up at her like that was the stupidest question anyone had ever come up with. Not to mention, Althea was the one who didn't know what was going on, so she thought she should be the one to ask the questions. "In pain," Althea said flatly.

"Do you know where are?"

Althea's eyes darted around the room. "Er…in the hospital."

"Indeed. St. Mungo's to be exact, and I'm Healer Reagan." The woman had picked up a clipboard from towards the end of Althea's bed, and she was currently scribbling something on it. Even the sound of the quill on parchment seemed impossibly loud to Althea. "And do you remember what happened?"

"No." Althea waited, thinking she would get some sort of explanation for what had happened, but no such luck. "What _did_ happen?"

Healer Reagan immediately stopped writing. She pressed her lips together and relaxed her arms, letting the clipboard and quill drop to her side. After what seemed like forever, she finally said, "You were attacked."

Althea blinked. "By who?" She couldn't put her finger on why, but the word 'attack' seemed to ring true to her for some reason. She still couldn't remember what had happened, but being 'attacked' felt right. Of course, that would account for why she was in so much. Clearly someone had hurt her.

"It wasn't a person," Healer Reagan corrected grimly. She paused again, like she really didn't want to be having this conversation. Althea thought she had picked the wrong profession if she didn't want to be telling patients what was wrong with them. "It was a thing."

"What?"

"It was…an animal that attacked you." Healer Reagan sighed heavily, and if Althea wasn't much mistaken, there was a look of pity on her face. "It was a werewolf."

A large lump seemed to have settled in Althea's throat that she couldn't swallow away. There were about a million questions whirling around in her head, but she wasn't able to voice ask any of them. A horrible truth began to dawn on her, and her breathing grew hard and fast. She gave Healer Reagan a pleading look, as if asking her not to tell her what she already knew.

The truth hung there like a horrible black cloud over the entire room. Althea didn't even need the healer to say it. It was why Althea felt so odd and different since she woke up. It was why she felt like she was in a dream world or some other alternate reality. It was why she didn't feel human anymore. It hadn't even occurred to her until just then that that was she was feeling - not human. That she was now a "thing" as the healer had so eloquently put it. Althea didn't know anything at all about werewolves, about what they felt like after they were bitten, but she knew that was what she was now. She knew.

"I'm sorry," Healer Reagan said, recognizing the look of complete and utter shock on Althea's face. "You were bitten-" She broke off like she was about to say more, but had changed her mind.

Althea closed her eyes in defeat, feeling just about every single emotion possible coursing through her. She was angry, partially at herself for being stupid enough to fall asleep in the woods when it was getting dark, but mostly at the damned werewolf that had done this to her. She was scared and confused, and she almost wanted to burst into tears, but she desperately tried to hold them back. Even though she now had some answers, she had no idea what this would mean for her, or how it would change her life. She felt disgust for herself, because that was how her parents had always regarded werewolves. How would they react to her? Would they hate her now?

In the very back of her mind, Althea even felt denial. It still didn't seem completely real to her. How could she be a werewolf? She had trouble wrapping her head around that. That she would transform into a wolf every time the moon was full. That she would never again look upon the full moon with human eyes. To be honest, being bitten by a werewolf was something that happened to other people. Not her. She worked for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures for Merlin's sake. She wasn't supposed to be one of those creatures herself.

Althea clung to the idea that she was still sleeping, that she was dreaming and that she would wake up in the woods exactly where she had fallen asleep, under the shelter of her favorite tree. She tried to ignore the very real fact that she'd never had any dreams where every single one of her senses felt like it was being overloaded. Where everything seemed unbearably loud, where the unnaturally clean smells of the hospital were making her sick to her stomach, where every part of her body hurt, even the parts that were simply lying on what seemed like a soft enough mattress. No, what was happening was very real, and she knew it.

"I'm a werewolf," Althea said, but it wasn't a question. It was a statement to try and make this entire nightmare seem real to her.

"Yes," Healer Reagan said apologetically, needlessly. She finished writing a few more things on her clipboard before returning it to the foot of the bed. Next, she reached for the curtain and pulled it around the bed, sectioning Althea off from the rest of the room. That at least made Althea feel better, because she was beginning to feel like a sideshow freak. No doubt that the other patients near her overheard what had happened, and they were doing everything in their power not to stare at her outright.

Healer Reagan reached for the thin sheet covering Althea, pulling it down a bit. Next, she pulled up Althea's hospital gown, revealing the healed scars that now littered her stomach. There was also a very large bandage across Althea's right hip. She didn't need to ask what it was hiding. Even though every single inch of her hurt, her right hip was possibly the worst, screaming in pain at even the slightest movement. It had to be where she had been bitten.

For the briefest moment, flashes of claws, teeth, screams, and growls flew through her mind. It mingled with an awful smell, one of blood, and sweat, and dirt, and fur that seemed completely out of place in such a spotless hospital. Almost as quickly as it had come, however, it was gone, leaving Althea to think she had only imagined it.

"We were able to heal everything just fine," Healer Reagan explained, beginning to pull up the edges of the bandage from Althea's hip.

Althea sucked in a breath at the sensation. Every little bit of the tape around the bandage that came free sent even more bolts of pain resounding through her midsection.

"Sorry. I'll get you something for the pain in a bit," the healer said, turning her attention back to removing the bandage. "Unfortunately, werewolf wounds are cursed, so your scars will never fade completely."

She finally succeeded in freeing the tape from Althea's hip. At first, Althea let out a relieved breath that the tape was finally removed from her skin, that the pinpricks of pain were fading, but then she saw what it had revealed - a large and ugly crescent-shaped scar that curved around her hipbone. Althea immediately squeezed her eyes shut and looked away, feeling thoroughly repulsed at the sight.

Healer Reagan frowned, but said, "It's really not as bad as it looks." She then retrieved a bottle from the cabinet next to Althea's bed, and used a cotton swab to dab some sort of ointment onto Althea's scars.

It burned horribly, and Althea scowled, but not in response to the pain. Just what in the hell was that supposed to mean? '_It's not as bad as it looks_'? In Althea's opinion, it _was_ as bad as it looked. In fact, it was much _worse_ than it looked. It was those stupid marks forever burned into her body that were condemning her to a life of transformations, pain, and being an outcast. Althea didn't think it could get much worse than that.

She supposed the healers probably said that to all the patients. Telling them it wasn't as bad as it looked seemed like a good way to reassure them that their injuries weren't so bad. Becoming a werewolf was clearly completely different, and Althea suspected they really didn't know the first thing about it.

Not that Althea did either. She worked for the Ministry for the Werewolf Support Services. She certainly wasn't stupid, and she had a good understanding of how werewolves were treated. On the other hand, she had absolutely no idea about what it was like to be one. She had no clue about what it would entail, or what she would have to do in order to prepare for it. She was running head-on into a life that she didn't know the first thing about, and it scared her senseless.

"I think it is," Althea snapped.

Healer Reagan opened her mouth to respond, a slightly surprised expression on her face at Althea's annoyed tone. Then she apparently thought better of what she had been about to say, because she snapped her mouth closed again. She spent a few more minutes cleaning Althea's wounds before covering her with her hospital gown and blanket once more.

"I only meant that your wounds have healed just fine," Healer Reagan said. She returned to the head of Althea's bed to fluff her pillow. "They may not look very nice, but once the pain stops - typically after the first transformation - they won't cause you anymore problems."

"They already are," Althea muttered. She suddenly felt thoroughly frustrated at everyone and everything around her, and she really didn't know why. She even had the urge to get up from her bed and begin to wreck things. The bed tray on wheels for instance. It would go sailing across the room nicely and would shock the hell out of the healer. The thought made Althea smile.

And that was utterly insane. She was normally a very easy-going person, and it usually took a lot to make her lose her temper. She definitely wasn't the type of person to destroy anything just because she got mad, or to take pleasure by doing so. She had no idea what could be causing her to feel that way. Or maybe she did, and she just didn't want to admit it. She tried telling herself that it simply the fear and uncertainty that had her so rattled, but deep down, she knew that wasn't it. After all, she was a werewolf now. Admittedly, she didn't know the first thing about them, but when it came right down to it, she was more or less an animal. It wouldn't be a stretch by any means of the imagination to assume that that would be why she might now have some animal instincts.

She didn't want to think that. She didn't. During her time working at the Ministry, she often felt like the only one in that damned place who didn't think all werewolves were animals. They at least deserved the benefit of the doubt and a little bit more credit than they were given. Sure, there were some werewolves like Greyback who were clearly monsters, but that didn't mean they all were.

Or were they? Because she was now feeling things that weren't her at all. She was feeling things that could very easily be described as animal instincts. Was that really what she was now, an animal? Were werewolves really deserving of the intolerance they received from society? Had Althea been fooling herself the entire time by trying to tell herself that they weren't all bad?

She was so confused, and she had absolutely no idea what to think anymore. Her entire world had been turned on its head, and there was no place she could go for answers. The healers obviously didn't know much more than she did, not about anything other than the physical aspects of what she was now facing anyway. Althea desperately wished for another werewolf to talk to, one that had been through all of this already and could give her some answers. But she realized that there was no one there to help her. St. Mungo's most probably didn't have an advisory board of werewolves to come in and mentor her.

If she could have, Althea would have gone straight to the files in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She would have looked up the addresses for some of the registered werewolves and gone to bang down their front doors in order to get some answers. That didn't sound like the most logical thing to do, but Althea didn't know where else she could go. She was completely and utterly alone, and that too scared her. Perhaps even more than the revelation that she was a werewolf had.

What the hell was she going to do?

Then her mind seemed to latch on to what were perhaps the only people that she might be able to turn to. Given, they hated werewolves, but she was still their daughter. Surely they couldn't hate her now as well, not just for making a stupid mistake. Althea was nothing like werewolves such as Greyback, and perhaps her parents could understand that. Maybe this would open their eyes to some things. Maybe they would help her and take care of her. Maybe.

"My parents," Althea said, sounding a bit desperate. "They're going to be so worried since I didn't come home last night."

"Last night?" the healer repeated, blinking. "You've been here for a week. That's how long it typically takes lycanthropic patients to wake up after first being turned."

"Dear Merlin. They probably think I'm dead!" Althea sat bolt upright, fully intending to go and find a fireplace to Floo them with, but she immediately regretted her actions. The pain in her scars flared to life, and she thought she could feel every single one of them, sense where they were on her body, like someone had set burning hot pokers across her skin. The scar from her bite was the worst by far, throbbing so heavily it made her entire hip feel like someone had set fire to it. The sensations seem to overload her brain, because the room started to grow fuzzy around her, causing her to sway.

Healer Reagan immediately stepped forward, gently placing her hands on Althea's shoulders and guiding her back down to the mattress. "You need to relax. You lost a lot of blood, and you're still going to be in pain for a while. You're not ready to be up and around yet." She tucked in the blanket around Althea as if to emphasize her point and added, "But you don't need to worry about your parents. We were able to identify you from the Ministry of Magic employee identification you had on you at the time. We were able to track down your parents, and they've already been notified."

They already knew. That thought alone sent a renewed sense of fear pounding through her. How were they handling it? What did they think about their daughter now being a werewolf? Had they already decided what they were going to do about it without even knowing how she felt? Was her future with them already decided when she had been asleep, oblivious to the turn of events her life had taken?

"Have they been here?" Althea asked frantically. "How did they react?"

"They have," Healer Reagan replied curtly, "but I'm sure I don't know. They weren't here very long, and they didn't say much while they were, except to ask some questions about what this would mean for you."

Althea wanted to ask that same question - what would this mean for her? But she knew they couldn't give her answers, not the ones she wanted. She had gone to Hogwarts, and they had studied the textbook definitions of a werewolf. It simply meant that she would be transforming into a wolf herself every single time the moon was full. She knew that, and she didn't need a bunch of healers to tell her that. What she wanted to know was what it would mean for her future, for her family, and her ability to earn a living. Those were things Althea knew the healers couldn't answer. No one could. The only way she could get some answers would be to live it.

Also, the fact that her parents hadn't been there for very long made Althea's fear even stronger. Did that mean they were already distancing themselves from her? Althea was well aware of the fact that she was jumping to conclusions, but she didn't know what else to think. If someone was really, truly worried about their hospitalized child, wouldn't they want to spend as much time as possible by their bedside?

"I can contact them again for you right now," Healer Reagan offered, "and let them know that you're awake."

Althea simply nodded, at a loss for words. She was torn. She felt like a little child that wanted nothing more than to run to her parents for comfort, but for obvious reason, she really didn't want to see them at all. Because if she saw them, they would tell her how they felt. They would tell her that she was a monster now, and they wanted nothing more to do with her. Althea's deepest fears would be realized - that not only did she have to deal with this new life that had been thrust upon her, but that she would have to do so alone.

On the other hand, however, Althea wondered if they would even come to see her at all. Maybe they were already too disgusted to even stand the sight of her. They might just send a letter telling her never to contact them again. Or if they were feeling particularly vindictive, they just might send the message through the healer like a ridiculous game of Floo Network.

The healer bent over, returning her supplies to Althea's bedside cabinet before straightening up. "I'll bring you a potion for the pain along with some literature about your condition and the options that are open to you. You just missed lunch, but I can run down to the cafeteria and bring you back a sandwich or something to drink if you want."

Althea shook her head and grimaced, her stomach curling up into tight knots at the thought of food. "I'm not very hungry."

Healer Reagan pursed her lips, giving Althea _that_ look again. The one that gave Althea the sense that she was being pitied. Althea suspected that she'd be seeing it a lot more in the days, weeks, months, and even years to come, and she despised it already. It made her feel like a bug trapped under a glass.

A moment later, the healer bustled out of the room, leaving Althea alone, still behind the privacy of her curtains. Althea was grateful for that, that she hadn't felt the need to expose Althea to the prying eyes of the rest of the ward again.

Althea still felt like she was in shock, like it hadn't really begun to settle in yet. That she was a werewolf. Those words still seemed absolutely foreign to her, like some obscure language that she didn't understand. None of it made any sense. At all. How could she be a werewolf? The very thing she had been talking to her father about not very long ago. The very thing she had been working at the Ministry to try and "control". The very thing that her parents told her were monsters.

It seemed like just yesterday that her biggest concern was her stupid, boring job at the Ministry. She had been desperately hoping for something to change that, to give her a life that she could be happy with, but this most definitely wasn't what she had had in mind. This wasn't what she wanted. In fact, if she could go back in time and correct her fatal mistake of going into the woods that night, she'd go back to her stupid Ministry job and never complain about it again. She'd work there forever, day in and day out, hating absolutely every minute of it if she could only wake up from this nightmare.

She most certainly wouldn't have a job now. Althea was well-versed in the Ministry's anti-werewolf legislation, and they definitely didn't hire werewolves. They were even making it difficult for werewolves to get jobs anywhere, so Althea wasn't sure what she might be able to do to rectify that, if anything. She felt like the only option she had left was her parents. She clung to the hope that they would help her and take care of her through this, but even that was a huge question mark. What if they didn't? Would she possibly end up on the streets with absolutely no way to support herself?

This was probably the most insane situation she could have ever imagined finding herself in. Just last week, she would have done anything to get out of her job at the Ministry. Now she would do anything to have it back. Althea almost laughed right out loud at the irony, but just as she opened her mouth, something seemed to click inside of her. It was a horrible realization that no matter what she did from this point on, her life was well and truly ruined. That as much as she tried to cling to it, there was absolutely no hope left. Not for her. Her future was very bleak at best, and it had been her own stupid fault.

Instead of laughing, a sob escaped from her throat. It had been threatening to come out ever since the healer had first told her the news. Althea wasn't one to cry in front of people or to even cry in a public place at all, so she'd pushed it down as hard as she could. But it had broken free now, causing her chest to heave as the cries began to consume her.

She turned over onto her right side, pulling her knees up towards her chest. She felt like a little child once again, a stupid, silly child wanting to curl up into a ball in the hopes that it might block out the world around her. Her bite screamed in pain at being pressed into the mattress, but she barely even noticed it now, because something else was hurting her much more deeply. Her heart hurt. It hurt at the thought of her parents hating her. It hurt at the thought of becoming an outcast. It hurt at the thought that every single one of her dreams had been reduced to a pile of rubble in a matter of moments.

Althea was terrified, and she didn't know if anyone would be there to help her. She didn't even think she needed her parents to confirm that for her. It was something she just knew, like the way she knew she was a werewolf without needing to be told. She was completely and utterly alone.

_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3: Liberation

**Shades of Grey: Althea's Story**  
Chapter 3 - Liberation

The literature that the healer brought Althea was nothing but a joke. There was a pamphlet about what it meant to be a werewolf that Althea thought they must have copied straight out of a Hogwarts textbook. All it told her was that she was going to be transforming into a wolf with each full moon, which anyone with half a brain already knew. They still weren't answering any of the real questions she had.

There were two pamphlets about Ministry-run accommodations if she had trouble supporting herself. One was for a safe house that would give her a secure place to stay for the transformations only. Judging from the picture on the front, however, it looked like a dump. It was a tall and skinny grey stone building that had seen better days. The stone was cracked and crumbling in many places, most of the windows were broken, and the walls were covered in graffiti. Althea certainly wouldn't be setting foot in that place, because just looking at it made her fear for her safety.

The other brochure was for a werewolf colony that didn't look much better, although it was described as "a nice place to live." The picture on the front showed a very desolate patch of land with small, ramshackle buildings in long rows. It might have been a prison camp of some sort if Althea didn't know any better, but the way it was portrayed, it sounded like a five star resort. It bragged about their "comfortable lodging, excellent food, and assortment of activities."

Althea didn't believe it. The Ministry hated werewolves. They didn't even deem them worthy of holding jobs. Why would they provide anything resembling comfort or fun to werewolves? Especially for free? That was a huge red flag, and besides, she wasn't blind. The stark photographs painted quite a different picture than the one they actually described. If they were going to try to force some rubbish propaganda on her, the least they could do was put a little bit of effort into it. They couldn't even make the pictures of the places themselves presentable, and they wanted her to live there?

There was one final brochure about something called the Wolfsbane Potion. Apparently, if taken in the days leading up to the full moon, it would allow her to remain in control of her actions during the transformation. It sounded like a godsend, one Althea would very much like to have. Especially if it prevented her from doing to someone else what had been done to her. The potion itself was complicated to brew, but there was a list of apothecaries and healers that she could obtain it from. The only downside was that it was expensive. If Althea had her Ministry job, even her low-level one, it wouldn't have been a problem, but that wasn't something she could count on any longer. She knew her parents would be able to help her out with the expense, but once again, she wasn't sure if she'd be able to rely on their support.

It was getting on towards dinnertime now. It had been several hours since the healer had said she'd Floo Althea's parents, but they still hadn't arrived. If they were at all concerned about Althea, wouldn't they have come first thing? If it was her child that had been unconscious in the hospital for a week, Althea thought she'd drop everything to be able to talk to them again.

She was beginning to wish they'd just come and get it over with. If they were going to disown her or something else equally horrible, Althea wanted them to come to her and say so. If they were going to abandon her, the least they could do was own up to it and take some responsibility for it. As it was, it seemed like they were hiding from the whole situation. Pretending like it hadn't even happened.

Althea wished she had the luxury of doing so, but she knew she couldn't hide from it forever. Her complete and total breakdown a little while ago had been a nice release, but it didn't change the fact that this was really happening, and the sooner she dealt with it, the better off she'd be. She had a lot of planning to do. She still didn't know what the hell she was even preparing for, but if her parents weren't going to help her, she'd already decided that she would find someone who would.

Althea had always wanted the chance to prove herself. Given, she'd really wanted the chance to show her parents that she could have a successful career as an artist, but the circumstances had changed. What hadn't changed was the fact that Althea still had something to prove. That she wasn't going to settle for one of these rubbish places the Ministry provided her with. Not if she could help it.

Healer Reagan had also brought her some papers to fill out so that she could be added to the Werewolf Registry. What a load of rubbish. Althea hadn't liked the Registry before she was bitten, and she sure as hell didn't like it now. More than ever, it infuriated her that just because she'd been attacked, that meant that she was supposed to consent to constant monitoring by the Ministry. She hadn't done anything wrong, and she didn't deserve to be treated like she had! She was just a werewolf, not some common criminal!

She hadn't signed them yet, and she didn't know when she would. It was illegal for her not to, subject to a fine, but she didn't exactly care at the moment. She supposed she would fill them out eventually, because she didn't need to make things any harder on herself than they already were, but right now, it was the principle of the thing. She'd only woken up a few hours ago, and she was still getting used to the idea of the new life she was facing. They couldn't even give her a day or two to adjust before shoving these papers in her face, making sure that she was going to make her condition known to the whole world.

"Dinnertime!" one of the healers announced from the doorway to the room.

Althea grimaced. Ever since Healer Reagan had told her she was a werewolf, something resembling a brick had settled into her stomach. She didn't feel hungry, and she didn't think she ever would again. Althea didn't even need them to tell her what was for dinner, because she could already smell it - turkey, mashed potatoes, and gravy. The aroma was obnoxiously thick and heavy in her nostrils, and it didn't smell the least bit appetizing to her. In fact, it made her feel sick. That seemed like a meal typically reserved for a more special occasion, such as Christmas. This most certainly was not a day to celebrate; it was the day she'd learned she was a werewolf. Even if she was hungry, why in the hell would she want to eat turkey of all things?

Healers began buzzing around the room, bringing in trays of food and setting them in front of the patients. The noise level had quite quickly become deafening, full of the sound of silverware on china, of glasses against trays. It was nearly unbearable, and Althea didn't know how she'd ever last to the end of the meal. Or how she'd handle three mealtimes a day. It was already driving her mad.

"Dinner!" Healer Reagan said, appearing around the edge of Althea's curtain. She was carrying a large covered serving dish which she promptly set down on the tray next to Althea's bed.

"I heard," Althea muttered, not even bothering to look at her. "And I'm not hungry."

Healer Reagan uncovered the plate anyway, wheeling the tray so that it was right under Althea's nose. "Just try and take a few bites," she encouraged. "You need to keep up your strength."

The smell was atrocious to Althea's senses. It felt like the brick in her stomach had doubled in size, and she thought that just the smell alone would make her sick. But she didn't care about that right now. "What about my parents?" she asked. "You talked to them, right? Did they say they were coming?"

Healer Reagan's dark brown eyes grew wide. She looked put on the spot. Althea could see her swallowing, and she opened and closed her mouth several times, but finally settled on an unconvincing, "Yeah. I-I think they'll be along." Letting out a nervous breath, she added, "Why don't you try eating something? Maybe they'll be here by the time you're finished." An uncomfortable silence fell, and the healer quickly retreated, leaving Althea alone once more.

"Yeah," Althea grumbled. "Sure they will." She pushed away the tray and turned over onto her side again, trying to block out the sounds that currently consumed the room.

Everyone else was eating away happily, it seemed. Some of them were even carrying on pleasant dinner conversations with the patient in the next bed. Of course they would feel like eating. They were the victims of fixable things - snake bites, dragon bites, chimaera bites. Not the most pleasant things to go through, but at least their wounds would heal completely, and they weren't doomed to become the things that had attacked them.

Why the hell had Althea been bitten by the one animal capable of causing irreversible change?

* * *

After the dinner dishes had been cleaned up, Althea tried to take a nap, but her efforts proved to be utterly useless. Every single little movement, every single little noise disturbed her. Healers were constantly in and out of the room, checking on patients and walking about the halls. Two of the other patients in the room were whispering and snickering quietly about which teams were the worst at Quidditch this year. They were trying to be discreet, but Althea heard every single word. The patient in the next bed must have been doing some writing, because even the incessant sound of a quill scratching on parchment was driving Althea up the wall.

Why was everything so loud? Althea wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, asking them to all be still and quiet for just a moment! If they could give her just five minutes of uninterrupted sleep, she thought she'd feel a lot less like she was losing her mind.

And then she heard them. She thought they were still down the hall quite a distance, but she knew it was them. They had come. The two people that could possibly help her make sense out of this nightmare. She'd been doubting they'd even come at all, and they had proved her wrong. She only hoped that they would surprise her again. That they would continue to be her parents, no matter what she was, no matter what she'd have to deal with for the rest of her life.

Althea turned over onto her left side, waiting and watching the door. Their voices kept coming closer, and her heart started beating even more erratically with every second that passed. She couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but she almost thought she heard concern in their tones. Hopefully, her mind wasn't playing tricks on her, and if it wasn't, that concern was for her well-being and not their own.

If only.

Her mum was the first one to enter the room, and Althea could feel tears prickling at her eyes again. She took some keep breaths, trying to push the sensation away, and gave her mother a pleading stare. Brooke, however, diverted her gaze, first to the floor and then back out into the hall. It couldn't be a good thing if her own mother couldn't even look at her.

A moment later, her father crossed the threshold into the room, and they both hesitated near the door for far too long. After what seemed like forever, they began approaching Althea's bed, both looking like they wanted to be anywhere else. This wasn't going to go well. Althea knew that now.

When they got to her bedside, Althea noticed that they didn't look to be in the best of shape. They looked tired, and their hair and clothes were messy and rumpled, which wasn't like them at all. They were very proper people, and they liked to look their best at all times. Normally, they would never set foot out of the house unless they looked absolutely perfect. Even her mother's face was puffy and her eyes were red and bloodshot, and it didn't look like she had attempted to improve it with make-up. Maybe they were more concerned with Althea's well-being than she was giving them credit for.

Her mother forced a smile - a rather pathetic one that left Althea feeling even worse than she already had. Althea wished she wouldn't have even tried at all if that was all she could muster. Althea's eyes went to her father's, but she didn't receive the reassurance that she had hoped for. He seemed very cold and distant, nothing at all like he usually was towards her. They weren't the most affectionate family in the world, but at least they never made her feel completely unloved. Until now.

Her father nodded his head in greeting. "Ally," he said. His tone suggested he might have been talking to one of his colleagues, and not his own daughter.

Nobody said anything else. They all stared at each other like they were strangers. Althea's breathing grew heavy, and she tried desperately to keep her tears at bay. She wouldn't fall apart in front of them. Especially not if they were going to abandon her. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

"Please say something," Althea pleaded.

"What do you want us to say?" her father asked.

Althea closed her eyes, unable to look at them anymore. If they were disgusted with her, that was quite all right, because her feelings towards them weren't far off. They could at least act like she wasn't a complete monster.

"I don't know," Althea retorted, "but you obviously came here for a reason. So just say it, whatever it is."

Quite unexpectedly, her mother burst into tears, which was far more emotion than Althea was expecting from either one of them. Brooke fumbled around in her handbag for a tissue, and she wiped at her eyes before asking, "Why, Althea? Why would you do something so stupid as to wander into the woods at _night_? You _knew_ how dangerous it was, you _knew_ it was inhabited by werewolves! And on a full moon of all nights! Didn't we warn you enough about that?"

"Brooke," her father said, reaching out to pat his wife on the shoulder. "I'm sure Althea's thought enough about that as it is, and she most certainly doesn't need to be reminded."

Althea glared at them both. She was already sick and tired of their condescending attitude and wished they'd just leave if that was all they were interested in doing. "No, I don't," Althea replied coldly. "But just so you know, I _wasn't_ wandering around in the woods at night. I'd gone for a walk after work-" She stopped abruptly. She definitely wasn't going to tell them that she'd done something so stupid as to fall asleep, because she'd never hear the end of it. "I just…lost track of time."

Her mother scoffed. "_You lost track of time_. Wasn't the fact that it was getting dark a clue to you? How on earth could you do something so _careless_?"

Althea took a deep and shaky breath. She was trying very hard to control her temper. The same one that had made her want to knock the bed tray across the room now made her want to get up and throw both of her parents out. She was already infuriated at the sight of them, and she didn't know how much more she could take.

"Look," Althea said curtly, "if you two just came here to insult me, then you can leave. You think I haven't thought about those things already? You think I haven't been sitting there for the last six hours, beating myself up over every little thing I did wrong? I messed up. Yes, I know that, and I certainly don't need you reminding me!"

Her father shook his head. "We didn't come here to insult you." That was Nolan - always the peacemaking one when tempers tended to flare between Althea and her mother.

"Well, you're doing a damn fine job," Althea said.

"What do you want us to say?" her mother repeated, which made Althea wonder if they had rehearsed that line. "'Congratulations on ruining your life'?"

Althea opened her mouth to reply, but she found herself at a loss for words. She realized that it wasn't even worth getting mad at them, because no matter what she said, they would never understand. "That's exactly what I mean," she whispered. "I don't know why I was hoping for anything different from you two, because you've never been accepting of anything I've done in my life." She shook her head, looking back and forth between them sadly. "Just go." She turned over onto her other side, her back to them. Her bite throbbed in pain at being pushed into the mattress again, but she didn't even care. Not anymore.

"Ally," her father said, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder. "Listen-"

Althea shook his hand off and interrupted, "I was listening, but all I keep hearing is the same old rubbish. I don't know why I ever bothered trying to make you two happy, because I realize now that there is no pleasing you two, is there? You'll always be disappointed in me. If it wasn't this, it would be something else." Althea flopped over onto her back, staring up at them. It was her turn to give them a look of pity. "You know what I wanted you to say? I wanted you to say that it doesn't matter what I am or what happened to me, because I'll always be your daughter. I wanted you to say that no matter what, we're all in this together, because we're a family. I wanted you to say…that you still love me." Her eyes filled up with tears once again, and this time, she did nothing to try and stop them. "And you can't, can you? Because you don't. I just look like a monster to you now, don't I? All you can see is the thing I'll become in another three weeks." She laughed, a dry humorless tone, and she suspected it was because she was close to losing it completely. "And you want to know the really sad thing? I'm not surprised. Not in the least. So…congratulations, I guess, because when it comes right down to it, you two didn't disappoint me."

Nolan sighed. "Ally…you're not even giving us a chance."

"A chance to do what?" Althea asked. "Abandon me? That's really what you want to do, isn't it? I don't know why you just won't own up to it. Just get this silly charade over with already, because you're not fooling anyone."

"We don't want to abandon you," Nolan said firmly.

For the briefest moment, Althea's heart skipped a beat. Perhaps she really was jumping to conclusions and being unfair to her parents. Maybe they really would accept what she had become. She looked up at them hopefully.

Brooke glanced furtively at her husband. "We just think," she said, "that it might be better if you were with…those like you."

Or maybe not. Althea let out a harsh laugh. "Right. And by that, you mean monsters."

"Don't put words in our mouths," her mother snapped. "We've been talking to the healers, and…they have places. Colonies. We could find a nice one for you-"

"And what?" Althea cut her off. "You'll come and visit me on Christmas and New Years?" She glowered at her father. "You just said you didn't want to abandon me. Is that your idea of support? Two visits a year?"

"It'll be more than two visits," her father said grimly. "They're just better equipped to take care of your needs now. We don't know the first thing about caring for-" He stopped abruptly. It seemed like they both were having trouble with saying the word werewolf. "Your kind," he finally settled on.

"It's called a werewolf!" Althea yelled. "Merlin, you can't even say the word, so I don't know how you can even stand the sight of me." She snorted derisively. "And you know what? I don't know the first thing about it either! But I'm going to have to learn pretty damn quick, and forgive me for thinking we'd be able to do that together."

"You're going to need constant care," Brooke argued. "Like it or not, we're not going to be here forever. Have you given any thought to that at all? About what you would do if something happened to us?"

Althea stared. She didn't know if she had ever heard such a stupid argument for anything in all her life. "First of all, it's once a month. That's hardly constant care. But that's it? You're not even going to try and help me? Just ship me off to one of those places and be done with me?" She laughed again, and she didn't know why. She didn't know everything suddenly seemed funny to her. Or perhaps she was just bordering on hysterical. "You two are unbelievable."

"We've talked to the healers at great length about this!" Nolan said, raising his voice for the first time since he had arrived. "You act like we're making a snap decision. Well, we're not. Don't forget, you've been unconscious for a week. A lot has been going on in that time."

"Like you and Mum deciding my future without me," Althea mumbled. "Then again, that's what you've always done, so I don't know why I'm surprised about that either."

"You're not being fair!" Brooke cried, sounding very much like a child. "Just because we've always wanted the best for you in life-"

"A _colony_?" Althea asked incredulously. "Is that what you really think is the _best_ for me? _Really_?"

Brooke's eyes had filled up with tears again. "You're not even giving them a chance! We're told they're really nice-"

"_Ministry-run colonies_," Althea bit out like they were the most atrocious things on the planet, and perhaps they were. She pushed herself up from her bed a little bit, trying to ignore the throbbing that erupted in her side. She leaned in closer to her mother and said, "Let me let you in on a little secret. The Ministry hates werewolves. You really think they're going to provide anything even remotely nice to us?" She looked back and forth between her parents, and she felt utterly ashamed to admit that she was even related to them. "If you believe that, then you're morons."

"Don't you dare take that tone with us!" Nolan scolded.

Althea ignored him. "I'd understand if Mum didn't get it, since she's never set foot in that place. But you! You work for the Ministry, Dad! You know exactly the sorts of things that go on there! You know exactly the sorts of rules they make against us! And you're going to stand there and tell me they're going to provide me with a _nice place_? Bollocks."

"You watch your language, young lady!" Nolan yelled again. "I understand that you're upset, but you are treading on very thin ice with us!"

"What the hell does it matter?" Althea said in disgust. "You two are apparently done with me. You don't care if I end up in a Ministry-sanctioned hellhole or not."

"If you would just go and look at one!" Brooke tried. "They were telling us about them. They have nice places for you to sleep, good food, and all sorts of activities for you to participate in!"

Althea turned towards her bedside table, rummaging through the pamphlets the healer had brought her. When she found the ones about the colony and the safe house, she shoved them under her mother's nose. "Just look at the goddamned pictures! Do those look like nice places to you?"

Brooke didn't even seem to take any notice of the brochures. She simply occupied herself with the tissue in her hands, like it was far more interesting that what her daughter was saying. Then she looked at Nolan out of the corner of her eye, as if she was asking him for some help in the matter.

Something inside Althea snapped. It was like her mother just wanted to conveniently sweep Althea and her condition under the rug - out of sight, out of mind. Brooke honestly couldn't even look at the place where she wanted to send her daughter, and that made an anger explode in Althea, one much stronger than she'd felt before.

"LOOK AT THE PICTURES!" Althea roared. She threw the pamphlets at her mother, watching as they hit her in the chest and scattered in the air. They fell to the floor, lost and forgotten. Exactly how Althea felt.

Brooke took a step back, an affronted expression overcoming her face. It looked like she was scared. Of her own daughter. Althea didn't know why, but that made her the tiniest bit happy.

"If you're going to send me away," Althea muttered, her teeth clenched, "you can at least have the decency to look at it and be honest with yourself about what kind of place it is."

Nolan didn't even take any notice of Althea's outburst, because when he spoke again, his voice had taken on its customary calm tone again, like he was still trying to smooth things over. "You're acting like this is something we're doing just to _you_. We need to think about ourselves as well."

Althea goggled at him. "_Yourselves_?" She let out a breathless gasp, shaking her head in disbelief. "Yeah, never mind about me, about what I'm going to have to go through. You two have to worry about your appearance, right? Can't let people think that your daughter is a werewolf of all things. The horrors that would present for you! You'd be shamed for life! Can't let that happen."

"Like it or not," Nolan replied matter-of-factly, "that is something we have to take into account. And not for our social standing, so I wish you'd give us a little bit more credit. I'm the head of the Werewolf Support Services! Do you honestly think the Ministry would allow me to work there any longer if I had you to care for all the time? I'm sure it would be deemed a conflict of interests. How can I be reporting werewolves for being in violation of the Code of Conduct, and then come home to you? They'd most certainly think I was shirking my responsibility because of sympathies for my now werewolf daughter."

"Well," Althea replied dryly, "I'm glad to know your job is more important than I am."

Nolan closed his eyes and sighed. "Ally…it makes no difference which one is 'more important', but I'd be lying if I said my job wasn't important. It is, end of story. I earn a steady galleon with it, and it allows me to support both myself and your mother. It's just the way the world works. We need money to survive. And do you have any idea how long and hard I worked for this job? I started out in an entry-level position just like you did, and I slowly worked my way up. I put in a lot of hard work and a lot of extra hours just for them to even consider me. I'm not going to give it up just because you were foolish enough to get yourself bitten, and I'm sorry if you have a problem with that."

"And Merlin forbid you spend any of the money from your hard-earned job on me and my condition."

"You're not even listening."

"What's there to listen _to_?" Althea asked. "If you're just going to go on and on about how important your job and money are, and about how you don't want me, I've gotten the message. Loud and clear."

"It has nothing to do with whether we want you or not," Nolan corrected. "As much as you don't think we are, we're trying to make decisions that we feel are best for you."

"Now you're the ones who aren't listening," Althea said miserably. She was done. She was done trying to talk some sense into them, because she knew she'd never get them to see it. She took a deep breath and said, "It doesn't matter what you think is best for me. Thank Merlin I am eighteen, because I don't have to let you two make those decisions for me anymore. What matters is what I think is best for myself, and I don't think a colony is it. If you two won't help me, you don't have to, but there is no way in hell I'm going to set foot in a colony! Not now, and not ever!"

Brooke pressed her tissue over her face, trying to quell the sobs that were beginning to consume her again.

"You're not even thinking rationally." Nolan sounded disappointed. And patronizing. Like he might have been talking to one of the werewolves he encountered during the course of his job, and not his own daughter. "Just how in the world do you plan on supporting yourself? The Ministry-" He paused, seeming to debate with himself. Then he reached into his robes, pulling out a letter with a seal on it that Althea recognized as belonging to the Ministry. He held it out to her, but she only rolled her eyes.

"Just tell me what it says." Althea's patience had run out. "Am I sacked?"

Nolan looked away, giving Brooke an almost desperate gaze. Finally, he simply nodded.

"Surprise, surprise."

Nolan seemed to be trying to control his temper. He set the letter down on Althea's bedside table (just another one that Althea had the urge to set fire to) before turning back to her. "Money doesn't grow on trees," he said, his voice very stern. "You need money to support yourself, and right now, you have none. We'd be willing to let you make your own decisions about this if you even had a plan, which you don't. This isn't some fairytale, Althea! This is real! Once you're released from the hospital, just what in the hell are you planning on doing? Setting up a cardboard box on the street and asking for handouts? What are you going to do when the moon is full, and you have nowhere to go? You're going to bring this on someone else just because you're too proud to admit you need help?"

Althea rolled her eyes. "I'm not proud, Dad. Far from it." She pushed her blankets down to her waist and pulled up her hospital gown a bit, revealing the scars that covered her stomach. "Look at me. What have I got to be proud about?" Both of her parents looked away, unable to face what she had become. Althea wasn't surprised. "And I'll be the first admit that I need help. I do. I'm not denying that. But you two obviously aren't going to give me that, so I just have to find someone else who will."

"Like who?" Brooke asked. "You're honestly expecting to find someone who will just take you in?"

"I don't know," Althea said, "nor is it any of your concern."

"Althea," her father said, "you're acting irrationally, and you're putting yourself and others in danger. We still stand by the fact that a colony is what's best for you right now, and if you won't go willingly…well, you don't have to. But you're going to one, one way or the other."

Althea laughed. Long and hard, because she didn't think her father could have made a more empty threat. "Oh, Dad," she said around snickers. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? For me to just go to one of those places and be out of your hair forever. But you know the funny thing about that? You can't force me to one. I am considered an adult in eyes of the wizarding world, meaning I get to decide for myself whether I want to go or not. You can't have me sent to one against my will. Not unless I've hurt or killed someone, which I haven't. You don't work at the Ministry and not learn a thing or two about how they operate. Werewolves don't have a whole hell of a lot of rights, but we have that one." She gave them a smug smile.

Both of parents stared at her, unsure of what to say for the longest time. Then her father spoke up, his voice very grim and solemn, like he was watching someone die before him. "You're making a mistake, Ally. One that we can't watch."

"Can't or won't?" Althea asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"_Can't_!" her mother screamed. "We can't watch you destroy your life."

"I thought you already deemed it destroyed," Althea replied smartly. "But if you don't want to watch it, then don't. I'm not asking you to. I'm not asking for anything at all from you. Not now and not ever again."

"Althea…" Nolan tried one last time, "this is your last chance. If you insist on doing things your way…" He glanced at Brooke, as if asking for permission to continue. "You'll just have to do it without us, because we won't have any part of it."

Althea swallowed hard, but she held her father's gaze. "That's the only way I want it."

Her mother started crying again, but Nolan grabbed her arm rather harshly. "Let's go, Brooke," he muttered, guiding her out of the hospital room.

Althea watched them go, and she knew without a doubt that it was the last time she would ever see them. The funny thing was, it didn't make her sad. For once in her life, she stood up for herself and what she wanted. It felt oddly liberating.

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4: Marek

**Shades of Grey: Althea's Story**  
Chapter 4 - Marek

Over the next few days, some of the healers took turns talking to Althea about what she could expect from her condition. Truthfully, none of them seemed like they knew very much about it, and she thought most of them must have memorized their explanations from other sources. Althea still had questions that no one could answer, and she was getting rather annoyed at their patronizing attitudes about it.

The only one who came even remotely close to assuaging her fears was the healer-in-charge of the ward, Hippocrates Smethwyck. He was a nice, older healer with salt-and-pepper hair, so he must have treated more than his fair share of werewolves over the years. Most of the other healers in the ward were young, probably only a few years out of school, so they obviously were still learning about a lot of things.

Healer Smethwyck sat down with Althea one rainy afternoon and went over exactly what she could expect from her first transformation and how to prepare for it. He pulled up a chair next to her bed, turned it around, and sat on it backwards with his arms resting on the back. It kind of made Althea feel like they were just having a friendly visit instead of a professional appointment, and she quite liked him right away. He was almost the type of man that she wished her father had been more like.

"Have you thought about where you're going to be for your transformations yet?" he asked her.

Althea shook her head. "I have no idea. My parents have more or less disowned me, and I don't really have anywhere else to go." She grimaced, well aware of how dangerous this was - heading into a transformation without any plan whatsoever.

"You know we have safe houses and colonies," he reminded her.

Althea's defenses instantly went up. She was not going to have a repeat of the conversation she'd already had with her parents. She was not setting foot inside one of those places, and she wasn't going to let anyone convince her otherwise. "Yes," she muttered firmly, "but I'm not going to one."

He nodded immediately and put his hands up in surrender. "And that is entirely your decision. I'm not here to try and change your mind. You're more than capable of deciding what's best for you. I just want to make sure you're aware of your options and know that they are there just in case no other options open up to you."

"I know." Althea nodded, but then she frowned deeply. "And I know it sounds completely irresponsible when I don't even have a plan yet-"

"You don't need to," Healer Smethwyck. "I understand that you only woke up three days ago. This is all still very new to you, and you're trying to cope with everything it means on top of everything else. You still have three weeks to go before the moon is full again, so there's plenty of time. Everything doesn't have to be decided right this minute."

Althea relaxed again, very relieved that he wasn't going to try and force any rubbish propaganda on her again. She'd had enough of that already. "You're nothing at all like my parents. They couldn't tell me enough how careless I was being by not having any sort of plans in place."

Healer Smethwyck smiled half-heartedly. "They're afraid. I'm sure you know that. Try and remember that this is all still very new to them as well. I don't think people generally understand that until that moon is full again, there is absolutely no danger, and you don't need to run to the nearest cell and lock yourself away immediately."

"Well," Althea sighed, "they're not going to get used to the idea either. Like I said, they want nothing more to do with me. In fact, they all but ordered me to go to a colony and wouldn't hear any different. When I told them I wouldn't…they said I was on my own."

"I'm sorry." Healer Smethwyck bowed his head, threading his fingers together carefully. "It really irritates me when families act like what they want is more important than what you want. Yes, it's something that's going to affect all of you, but you're the one that's going to have to deal with the transformations." He frowned before going on. "I guess they think that those transformations affect your ability to make perfectly good decisions now, that they cause you to go completely insane, and they don't."

Althea turned over onto her left side so she could face him more fully. "You seem to know a lot more about it than most people."

"I don't pretend to be an expert," Healer Smethwyck said, shrugging. "I'm far from it actually. I've just been a healer since I was in my twenties. They don't teach you much more about lycanthropy in healer training than what we learned about it at Hogwarts. Just mainly how to best heal and treat the wounds, but I've cared for my fair share of werewolves in that time. You don't treat them for that long and not learn a thing or two about it." He stopped and laughed. "If you had known me when I first graduated…well, let's put it this way - I was not a very nice person to werewolves. They don't teach you to be sympathetic, and I was still very full of myself. Thought anyone like you was-" He broke off, his cheeks turning bright red.

"A monster?" Althea volunteered.

Healer Smethwyck hummed an affirmative response. "It took some very determined werewolf patients to convince me to get my head out of my arse. I've since decided to try and revolutionize healer training. I've gone back to the academy, trying to get them to sanction a full course on werewolves and supporting them, so even our new healers will be more educated about it." He shook his head. "But it's not easy. Trying to get those gits who are in charge to make such changes is near impossible." He rolled his eyes.

"I can imagine." Althea paused for a very long time, not sure if she should speak her mind. In the end, she decided it couldn't hurt. "I hope you won't stop trying."

Healer Smethwyck smiled. "Course not. I don't know how to quit. I wouldn't be a healer if I did. Sometimes healing is all about pushing forward, and doing everything in your power to help someone even if and when it seems hopeless."

Althea didn't really want to ask the question, but it seemed to escape her mouth before she could really even process it, or do anything to stop it. "And you don't think my condition is hopeless?"

"Certainly not," Healer Smethwyck said confidently. He leaned towards her a bit more. "You're not the first werewolf I've treated, and unfortunately, you won't be the last. And I only use that word, because it's unfortunate that this has to happen at all. But if any of my past patients have taught me anything at all, it's that you're more than capable of leading a fairly normal life." Althea gave him a look of disbelief, to which he immediately replied, "I'm not just saying that. I don't believe in that really - saying things simply to alleviate someone's fears - because sooner or later, they're most probably going to learn the truth anyway. Everything you said to them up until that point will become meaningless, so I don't think it's worth it. I believe in being upfront and honest with my patients, even if some things may be hard to hear. You're not doing them any favors by lying.

"On the other hand," he continued, "I'm not going to tell you it's easy when it's not. It's hard, it's painful, and it's difficult to find ways to support yourself. But it can be done. I know more than a few werewolves who are leading fairly normal lives." He reached, laying a gentle hand on top of hers. "This doesn't make you a monster, Althea, not at all, and you don't have to act like one."

At first, Althea smiled in return, but her expression slowly morphed into one of deep fear. "I'm afraid of the pain."

Healer Smethwyck gave her an apologetic look for having to be the one to tell her these things. "I wish I could tell you it won't hurt. But as I said, I don't believe in lying about it. It is painful. As far as I know, the first transformation is always the worst one in terms of pain, so when that's over, you can rest assured that they won't be that bad again. It doesn't mean they won't hurt. I believe they always will, but your body does adjust a little bit."

"And nothing helps the pain?" Althea asks. "No amount of pain-killing potions or anything?"

"I'm afraid not," Healer Smethwyck said around a heavy breath. "And I've tried, especially when I first started becoming sympathetic to werewolves. I was still quite young then, and I didn't want to accept the fact that there was nothing I could do to help my patients. Some of them were more than willing to try every combination of potions possible to see if they could help, and none of them did. But just like the Wolfsbane, perhaps it's something that will be invented one day - something to help with the pain." He made a face then. "And I hate telling you all of this awful stuff."

"No," Althea murmured softly. "I'd rather you be honest with me. I don't really believe in lying to people to make them happy either."

"That's not to say that this condition and the pain _aren't_ manageable," Healer Smethwyck quickly added. "They absolutely are. Lycanthropic patient after patient of mine has attested to that fact, and it's something that, I think, gets a little easier to handle as time goes on. You adjust to it, but it isn't a death sentence, nor is it the end of your life, no matter what other people would have you believe. I promise."

Althea felt a million times better after her conversation with Healer Smethwyck, but there were about a million things still niggling around at the back of her mind. Healer Smethwyck wasn't a werewolf himself, after all. He could only tell her things that he had spoken to other werewolves about, and even then, it wasn't the same as having someone to confide in that could truly understand her.

As much as he would have liked to, Healer Smethwyck couldn't share any of his other patients' names with her, because it would be a violation of their privacy rights. Althea thought that was a bit ironic, considering how few rights werewolves had to begin with, but she supposed that it was good that they still had some.

Althea was left desperately wishing for a fellow werewolf to talk to, one that she would feel comfortable with confiding in. She even had this crazy idea that she might meet one at the hospital before she was released. That they would find each other, become fast friends, and be able to support each other through their difficult times. She knew that was a silly dream though. The perfect companions didn't just drop into people's lives like that.

Little did she know that her prayers were about to be answered.

* * *

Healer Smethwyck had put enough of Althea's fears at rest that she was finally able to relax and get some sleep. She ended up dozing off after he left her room, much more confident in the fact that she would be able to deal with this. She was still scared out of her mind, but every little bit helped, she was beginning to realize.

She awoke sometime later to a heated argument from out in the hallway. It sounded like a young man was fighting with one of the younger woman healers.

"I keep getting these damn bills sent to my house when I've already told you I have no way of paying them!" the man yelled. "I honestly don't know what you want me to do. As much as I wish I could, I simply can't conjure a pile of money to pay you people with. Believe me, I would if I could, just so I can get you people off my back, but magic simply doesn't work that way!"

"We understand that, Mr. Williams," the healer responded in that annoyingly patronizing tone that they used all to often.

"I don't think you do!" the man snapped. "I told you that I'd be more than willing to work out a payment plan. I earn a little money, and I can pay you what I can when I can."

"We've discussed that, sir," the healer said in a clipped tone. "We don't extend payment plans to…your kind."

"So you tell me," the man huffed, "where on earth am I supposed to get this money from? It's bigoted people like you that ensure that werewolves like us can't get jobs in the first place. We can't even get decent health care, and then you expect us to pay these outrageous prices when we come to you for medical help? Do you people even have brains?"

At the mention of werewolves, Althea sat up slightly in her bed. She held her breath in an effort to hear the voices in the hall more clearly.

"Please, Mr. Williams," the healer said, beginning to sound a bit harried. "I don't make the rules."

"No," the man muttered, "but you follow them and enforce them along with every other brainless zombie in this place. And you people wonder why I don't continue to come here for medical care."

Althea immediately felt a connection to this young werewolf - Mr. Williams - and she didn't even know his full name. She'd never even actually met him, but for the first time since she'd learned what she was, there was someone who could understand her, who even might be able to answer some of the questions she still had. She wondered if she'd come off as a complete freak if she went up to him and introduced herself as a fellow werewolf, but she decided that it didn't matter. In the eyes of most of the world, she was a freak anyway, so she didn't have anything to lose.

Ignoring the pain that began throbbing in her side, Althea sat up the rest of the way and slowly set her feet on the floor. Since she woke up, she'd only been up to go to the loo, and even then, she had one of the healers helping her. The healers would probably have a coronary if they saw her up and around by herself, but she didn't care. She wasn't going to miss this opportunity, this chance to meet someone who could truly understand her.

Althea took a moment to slide her feet into the hospital slippers next to her bed. Then she took a deep breath before pushing herself off the mattress and putting her weight on her feet. A bolt of pain shot through her right hip, extending up into her chest and down her leg. She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing a gentle hand against her side. She took some more deep breaths until the pain subsided, and before she could lose her nerve, she began waddling towards the door. Her hip screamed with every step, but she tried to ignore it, focusing on what she might be able to find in the hall.

When she got to the doorway, she leaned into it, allowing her hip to rest for a moment. Across the corridor was the healers' station - an extra long desk with a very stressed-looking witch sitting behind it. On the other side, resting his hands on the surface of the desk, was a young man with coppery red hair - presumably the werewolf that Althea wanted to talk to.

"Please, sir," the healer said, holding up her hands in a sign of defeat. "I really can't help you with this. It's not like I can just choose to change the rules even if I wanted to. I'd like to help you, but…I just can't."

"Nor can I!" the man screamed. "I can't help to pad your pocket by paying these bills!" He held up a stuck of papers in his hands, giving them a shake. "I don't have the money, not right now, and no manner of threatening to report my delinquency to the Ministry is going to change that!"

A plan quickly formed in Althea's head - a way to possibly win this young man's confidence, and to get back at her parents at the same time. She realized she might be going out on a limb, that she just might make this young man run in the other directions, but she felt like things were getting to be pretty desperate, and desperate times called for desperate measures.

A smile fell across her lips as she ambled over to them. Neither one of them seemed to notice her at first; they were still too caught up in their argument. Althea cleared her throat and tried to pretend like she knew what she was doing. "I want you to send his bills to my parents. They'll take care of it."

The young man's blue eyes grew large and round, but he didn't say anything. He simply stared at Althea as did the witch behind the desk.

Seeming to see her for the first time, the witch quickly got up from her chair. "Miss Jameson! You should not be out of bed without assistance!"

"I'm fine," Althea insisted. "Besides, this is important. This is-" She stopped. She had intended to use the young werewolf's first name, but she realized she didn't know it. She didn't think it would be appropriate to call him Mr. Williams, so Althea settled on, "An old friend from Hogwarts." She smiled before reaching up to put an arm around his shoulders like they were the best of friends. He was stiff underneath her touch and probably thought she was a lunatic to boot, but she didn't care. "He used to spend summer holidays at our house," she added, nodding.

"Er…" the young man said slowly. "Yeah…'cause my parents were jerks."

"Mhm," Althea chimed in. "He's like my brother. The sibling I never had. And he was like the son my parents never had. They have more than enough money, and they'll be thrilled to help him out."

The witch stood frozen to her spot, her eyes going back and forth between the two of them. Althea smiled and nodded again, and the young man followed suit. Althea imagined they were being completely ludicrous and transparent, but the witch seemed to buy it. None of the healers were really very bright, but it wasn't like the healer could argue with someone offering to pay someone else's medical bills.

"Er…" the healer stumbled, "yeah, sure. Let me just get a change of address form." She stared at the two werewolves for a very long time, but then slowly made her way into a room behind the healer's station.

Trying to make their act more convincing, Althea clapped the man on the shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me you'd been bitten?" she asked incredulously.

"You never asked," the man said, his eyes still large and wide. "Besides, it not exactly something you go around boasting about, if you know what I mean." When the healer had finally disappeared into the room beyond, he said, "Er…thanks. I guess. But…do I even know you?" He sounded slightly afraid.

"You do now," Althea said, holding her hand out to him. "Althea."

The man hesitated for a very long time, but he finally took her hand, albeit very gently. "Marek," he said, confusion evident in his voice.

Now Althea only had to explain things, and she really wasn't sure where to begin. "Er…I've just been bitten myself. By a werewolf."

Marek nodded, still looking very closed and guarded. "My condolences."

"I don't…" Althea paused and laughed, partly out of confusion and partly out of what she suspected was the beginning of madness. She rubbed at her eyes with her hands before pushing her long blond hair back from her face. "I have no idea what I'm doing. I only woke up three days ago. My parents have disowned me. I have nowhere to go except for these ruddy colonies and safe houses some of the healers keep pushing on me."

"Don't set foot in one of those places."

"I wasn't going to," Althea said around another gentler laugh. "Don't worry." She looked up at him desperately. "I feel so lost. No one who isn't a werewolf understands what in the hell I'm going through. I heard you out here talking and-"

"Ohhh," Marek murmured in an understanding tone. "So you thought you'd try and adopt me, hm?"

Althea couldn't tell if he was angry or not. "Please don't be mad, because right now, you're all I have."

A wistful expression passed over Marek's features like he was remembering some pleasant memory. "I'm not mad. After all, you took care of my bills for me, so how can I be angry? The only thing I don't understand is if your parents disowned you-"

"What they don't know won't hurt them," Althea answered before he could get the entire question out. "I hope they know they'll be getting my hospital bills pretty soon as well. They never want anything to do with me again, but they certainly can't expect me to pay them on my own. Not now. Like I said, they have more than enough. They'll never even miss it. I doubt they'll pay that much attention to who or what the bills are actually for, and if I know them, they might just pay them to make sure I never bother them again. Besides, they can't allow anyone to think that they have outstanding debts. How humiliating!" She let out a soft breath and added, "Just paying them and shutting up about it would be their way of sweeping this entire thing under the rug. It's what they like to do."

"Yeah," Marek agreed. "My parents are well-off, too. The amount for my hospital bills would be so insignificant to them, but they refuse to help me. They've even refused to talk to me ever since I was bitten. They couldn't even come here and tell me themselves. They sent me a ridiculous letter ordering me to never darken their doorstep again."

Althea scoffed. She couldn't say she was entirely surprised, but it hurt to know that so many parents would so easily abandon their child. It necessarily wasn't a child's fault that they were bitten, but more often than not, they were punished for it. "At least my parents had the audacity to come here and tell me that to my face, I guess."

When the healer returned with the appropriate papers, Althea filled them out with her parents' address, hoping that she would be sending a very loud and clear message to them by doing so. Afterwards, she and Marek decided to take a walk around the hospital.

The healer didn't like this idea very much. She still kept giving Althea and Marek awkward glances before saying, "You really shouldn't be wandering around this place in your condition. Other than trips to the loo, we typically like to keep post-werewolf bite victims bedridden for another week after they've woken up. It's only been a few days for you, hasn't it?" She shuffled around some of the papers on the desk, apparently searching for Althea's. "You could be seriously jeopardizing your recovery."

"I feel fine," Althea said firmly, and that was the truth. She'd since realized that being up and around seemed to be helping her pain. Everything probably grew impossibly stiff by being confined to one position, and that's why it felt like she was dying every time she moved in bed. Since she'd been up and around, however, the pain in her side had faded to a dull ache. Being able to exercise her muscles a bit was probably helping more than anything. Of course, she didn't expect the healers to know that. They didn't know anything about lycanthropy.

The witch said that if Althea wouldn't return to bed, she would have to call some extra healers so they could force her back to bed, but Althea was honestly through caring. What were they going to do - strap her to the bed? Werewolves didn't have any rights as it was, so it wouldn't surprise her, but Althea was well and truly through with doing things just because people told her to. She'd made a decision to start doing things for herself, and she wasn't going to let anyone talk her out of anything ever again.

In the very center of St. Mungo's was a greenhouse which encompassed a rather large garden, fountains, and several sitting areas. A cobblestone path weaved in and out of the trees, flowers, and various plants, providing what amounted to a beautiful and calming walk. Althea had never had a reason to set foot in St. Mungo's before now, and she was surprised that anything run by the Ministry could turn out to be so nice. Then again, she supposed that the garden itself was maintained for the potion makers at the hospital, and not necessarily for the patients and visitors to enjoy.

Marek and Althea found a stone bench that was facing one of the fountains with mounds of brightly colored flowers surrounding the area. Althea wasn't sure whether she found the sound of the running water in the fountain soothing or not. It reminded her of her favorite place in the forest near the stream, but considering her life had taken such an unexpected turn there, she was fairly certain it wouldn't be her favorite place any longer. The sound actually made her feel oddly queasy now, a stark reminder of everything that had happened, but she tried to ignore it.

It was still raining, just like it had been when she'd spoken to Healer Smethwyck earlier. The sky was dark and grey, and it kept dumping large and fat raindrops on the roof the greenhouse. Althea didn't know why, but the rain had always been soothing to her, and at least nothing had happened to ruin that for her yet. Besides, it was rather appropriate that it should be raining when she was finally learning some things about what she was now facing.

Althea gingerly sat down on the bench, careful not to set her bite scar throbbing in pain again.

Marek watched her and said, "It'll stop hurting after your first transformation. Course, then you have a new set of pain to worry about."

"Yeah," Althea replied, "that's what they said." She paused for a second, not sure if she really wanted to know for sure or not, but she decided she would find out for certain sooner or later. "Is it true that the first one is the worst?"

He nodded. "Indeed. They still hurt, I'm not going to lie, but my transformations since have never been anywhere near the level of pain of my first one."

"How long ago was that?"

Marek blinked, like the question confused him. Perhaps he had blocked it out, because Althea suspected she'd be doing that quite a lot in the future. "Almost a year now this December," he finally said. He stared at his hands, fumbling around with them a bit. "I think I only remember because I was bitten right before Christmas. You couldn't imagine how sickening that hospital was with Christmas decorations up all over the place and ruddy carols playing. All the healers wishing me happy holidays like I had anything at all to celebrate. Everyone in the entire place getting visitors except for me." He scowled.

"I haven't had any either, so don't feel bad," Althea sighed. "Well, there were my parents, but they only came to tell me what they thought of me now. I don't exactly call that a visit. Certainly not a social one. They shouldn't have even bothered."

Silence fell. It wasn't awkward like most silences between new acquaintances were, but completely comfortable and natural. Althea was growing more and more appreciative of the fact that someone had decided to plunk this young man down into her life at just the right moment.

After a while, Marek said something that made Althea think he might have been reading her mind. "You know," he told her, "when I was first bitten, waiting in the hospital alone and scared, I was desperately wishing for someone to talk to. Someone who would understand more about what I was going through than what the healers told me. And out of nowhere, there he was."

Althea turned to face him, her face curious. "You met another werewolf?"

Marek nodded. "Yeah, I did. He was a friend of another patient in the ward. He'd come to visit, and when he found out there was a brand new werewolf across the room, he came to talk to me. Let me know I wasn't alone, answered a lot of my questions, eased some of my fears, reassured me that I didn't have to let it change me if I didn't want it to." He gave her a meaningful glance out of the corner of his eye.

Althea bit her bottom lip, trying to hide a smile. "That's why you weren't completely freaked out when I randomly came up to you and started talking to you."

"Mhm," Marek hummed. "As soon as you said you were a werewolf, it reminded me of the werewolf that sort of took my under his wing when I needed it the most. If I could provide that for someone else, then maybe this isn't a complete loss. If this had been last year, I probably would have told you to get lost, _especially_ after you said you were a werewolf." He made a face and then glanced out at the fountain before them. "I actually wasn't a very nice person. Not back then. A bit too much like my parents for my own good. So when you think about it, this did change me, but not in a bad way. Not like that man was trying to reassure me against. This entire experience has made me much more humble, more accepting, more open to different things in general." Althea began to ask a question, but he went on before she had the chance to get it out. "Don't get me wrong. I hate it. I hate it with every fiber of my being. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't wish for a cure. That I don't wish that I didn't have to live with this stupid curse. But - and I can't believe I'm saying this - I don't necessarily regret it."

Althea's eyes had gone large and round, and she stared at him. Marek might as well have turned into a little green alien complete with bug eyes and antennas.

Marek laughed. "I knew you'd give me that look. It was the exact same look I gave that man when he told me the same thing - that he wouldn't change it, because he didn't regret it. And I don't, either. I'd still be a…not-very-nice person if this hadn't happened to me. It changed me in some good ways. It opened my eyes to a lot of things." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "If you think about it, it had the complete opposite effect than most people think it will. They think we're going to turn into bloodthirsty monsters like that Fenrir Greyback. Have you heard about him?"

Althea only nodded. She didn't want to reveal just yet that she knew probably more about him than most people because of her job at the Ministry. Althea didn't quite know how Marek would react to that. After his little outburst with the healer, he probably didn't think very much about Ministry-run institutions.

"Most of us _don't_ turn out like him like some people would have you believe." He rolled his eyes. "It's stupid werewolves like him that give us a bad name. He's so high-profile, as soon as you say 'werewolf', I think he's what most people think of. They hate him so much, and they automatically think we must all be exactly the same, so they make ridiculous laws for us to follow, and put absurd restrictions on what we're allowed to even do." He paused before he added, "And I have to wonder if maybe he did become the way he is because of the way people treated him. If everyone treats you like an animal…maybe it's just easier to become so."

"I'm not going to become an animal," Althea said in determination.

"Nor am I," Marek agreed. "That was one of the things that werewolf reassured me of. That if I was strong enough to stand up against it, I didn't have to let what other people believe dictate what I would become. Which is what I was doing before I was bitten, I guess. I let my parents push all of their prejudices on me, and I didn't even bother thinking for myself whether they were right or wrong."

Althea didn't reply right away. She was thinking about how to best word her response so it wouldn't offend him. "I was like that to a degree. I mean, I let my parents dictate my life to me. I did what they wanted me to do, because I was too afraid to stand up for myself. But I never followed their prejudices. I never thought these horrible things about werewolves or anyone or anything else for that matter. So I don't know what I could possibly learn from this. Perhaps it would make me feel better if I could find a reason for this like you have, but-" She broke off into an annoyed growl.

"Maybe you just haven't found it yet," Marek suggested. "It's taken me almost this long to realize that maybe this wasn't an accident. That maybe I really was supposed to learn something from all of this." He tilted his head and smiled encouragingly at her. "I'm sure your reason is there, too. You just haven't found it yet."

That made Althea feel the tiniest bit better, but she wasn't entirely sure that she believed him. She really liked Marek so far, and she wanted to believe that he wouldn't lie to her, but perhaps he was just trying to make her feel better. In which case, she couldn't hold that against him.

It would turn out to be a very long time before Althea figured out the reason for her lycanthropy, but Marek was absolutely right - it was indeed there. She just needed to keep looking.

_To be continued…_

_Author's note: You may recognize Marek from my one-shot 'Blue Christmas' - the missing moment I wrote from OotP about Remus talking to the werewolf that was in the same ward as Mr. Weasley. If you haven't done so already, please do go back and read that, as it helps to give a little bit of background on what he's talking about here._


	5. Chapter 5: Homecoming

**Shades of Grey: Althea's Story**  
Chapter 5 - Homecoming

Marek turned out to be a godsend. He came to visit Althea at the hospital nearly every single day during the rest of her stay. They spent hours talking, mostly with Althea asking every single question she had about the condition they now shared, and Marek doing everything in his power to answer them.

The healers, on the other hand, absolutely loathed when he came around. Sometimes Althea and Marek would get into silly moods, laughing and joking. They tried to keep their noise to a reasonable level, but the healers always insisted they were too loud. To try and rectify this, Althea started taking more and more trips around the hospital with Marek, which the healers didn't like either. They clamed she was still in the recovery period and shouldn't be up and around so soon. Althea, however, felt absolutely fine and oftentimes, she even felt better after a nice walk. It certainly beat laying in the same bed day after day anyway, plus Althea was through caring what anyone else thought, especially when she knew what was best for herself. So was Marek, it seemed.

The healers were even beginning to lie to Marek, often telling him that the visiting hours had randomly changed or that Althea wasn't feeling well and could not be disturbed. It was all absolute rubbish, because Althea was feeling better with every day that passed, and other visitors to the ward were coming and going as they pleased. The rules had apparently only changed for Marek, because the healers seemed to think he was causing Althea to act out. In the end, Althea was still a patient of theirs, and she deserved all the rights all of the other patients had whether they liked it or not. That included the right to have visitors at the designated times, and as long as Marek wasn't deemed a threat to anyone there, they couldn't keep him away.

Althea suspected they were just angry at Marek for finding a way to pay his bills. Sometimes it seemed like the healers actually enjoyed hunting down the werewolves who didn't pay, hounding them for the money, and reporting them to the Ministry when they didn't come up with the money. It sounded utterly ridiculous, but Althea knew what happened to werewolves who were delinquent with their payments. They were almost nearly forced into colonies, because they were considered incapable of caring for themselves. It was just another tactic the Ministry used to try and get all werewolves off the streets.

It was the same for werewolves who refused to sign up for the Registry. They were charged fines for every full moon they hadn't registered, ones that most werewolves could never hope to pay. They would eventually be reported to the Ministry for delinquency, and the Ministry would do everything in their power to convince them that a colony was best. It infuriated Althea, but Marek convinced her that it really wasn't worth it to get into that kind of hot water. She finally did sign up for the Registry against her own better judgement. Just knowing they'd be able to track her every time she tried to get a job somewhere, every time she made a transaction at a bank, every time she was hospitalized for every little thing made her blood boil, but she supposed it was a small price to pay to avoid a colony.

Exactly seven days after she woke up, Althea was allowed to leave the place that was quickly becoming her prison. She didn't think she could handle one more day of the healers insisting she stay in bed when she felt fine, or anymore of their incessantly patronizing attitude towards her. If Althea was honest, they were quickly driving her insane, and she was glad to be rid of them.

They even tried to make her stay longer, insisting she'd do well to remain on bed rest up until the next full moon. In the end, Althea supposed they liked to keep the werewolves close by for as long as possible. Most of the healers detested them, but as long as the werewolves stayed behind and remained in their beds, the healers could keep an eye on them. Moreover, by remaining at the hospital until their first transformation ensured that the werewolves would have absolutely no time to make arrangements for themselves. They would more or less be forced into a safe house or a colony, because they wouldn't have any other options. It was quite fascinating the way the wizarding had twisted itself so much against werewolves that they would oftentimes end up in colonies and safe houses despite their best efforts to the contrary. It was still sickening, of course, but fascinating nonetheless.

Althea had no idea why she hadn't noticed it before - exactly how prejudiced the Ministry was. Even before she was bitten, she knew they did some shady things, but she had no idea just how bad it had become. It wasn't until she was forced into her current position that all these things became clear to her. It angered her that she hadn't seen these things before, tried to do something to put a stop to it. And that was the problem, wasn't it? People only had a problem with the Ministry's actions when they were on the receiving end of them, and by then, they weren't exactly in a place to complain. No one in any position of importance would listen to anything a werewolf said. Or a house-elf. Or a vampire. Or anything other than a complete and total human.

Not that it mattered anymore. The healers couldn't force Althea to remain in the hospital against her will - thank Merlin for the few rights she still retained - so she left as soon as her two week post-bite recovery was over. She decided then and there to never set foot in a Ministry-run institution ever again, not if she could help it.

If she hadn't met Marek when she had, Althea wouldn't have any clue where she would have even gone. She had this completely insane idea that she'd be wandering the streets for a while, desperately searching for some sort of abandoned building where she could spend her transformations. Miraculously, someone had seen fit to send her another option by making sure Marek was in the right place at the right time. He agreed to take her in until she could get on her feet and possibly find an alternative.

Althea was fascinated not only that Marek was self-sufficient, but that he owned and was maintained his own house in addition. It didn't seem possible, not with the few opportunities werewolves even had, but somehow he had found a way. That meant Althea could, too.

Marek didn't have a huge place. It was just a small cottage hidden away from the street by a grove of trees, but he had really lucked out with it; he had bought it the year before he'd been bitten. His parents had helped him out a little back then with the money, but at least it was paid for, and something he didn't have to worry about now. It had even come equipped for his needs before he knew what those needs would be. It had a stone basement underground to which Marek had applied nearly every Door-Locking and Strengthening Charm known to wizard kind.

"Don't think less of me because it's small," Marek told Althea as he led her down the path through the trees and up the front walk.

Althea was a bit caught up trying to take in the view of the area around her. It was just like her favorite place, only she hadn't been bitten here, so it was already better. "Of course not," she giggled. "Right now, I have nothing, so a cardboard box would be better."

Actually, Althea did have a few things, but she had every single one of them with her at the moment. She had the clothes on her back - the very same ones she'd been wearing when she'd been bitten. One of the healers had at least been kind enough to mend them for her, so the gaping holes in the front had been closed. Her parents hadn't even bothered to bring her any of her clothes from home, so they were all she had. Luckily, she still had her wand as well, which had been spared from damage in the attack. It was safely tucked into the pocket of her trousers, and she kept reaching in to make sure it was there. She didn't know what she would have done if it had been lost or destroyed. She certainly couldn't afford to buy a new one now, and as it was, it was her best form of defense against bringing this curse on someone else. Something she vowed to herself that she would never do.

Althea had also received a care package of sorts from St. Mungo's, which had been a hell of a lot more than she'd been expecting. It amounted to a small canvas shoulder bag which she now toted. In it was her pair of slippers from the hospital, a comb they had provided her with during her stay, a box of tissues that she'd been using, along with every single pamphlet they'd given to her. Like she was a moron and needed reminding of her "options". Althea only hoped that Marek had a fireplace, because she intended to burn them as soon as humanly possible.

When the house finally came into a view, Althea's breath escaped in a soft gasp. "But I think it looks amazing."

Althea didn't think she'd ever seen a more welcoming and comfortable looking home in all her life. It was certainly a far cry from her parents' rather excessive manor. Althea's home had been nice, but that was sometimes the problem - it was too nice. The rooms were always kept so spic and span, Althea felt like she was dirtying them anytime she set foot in one. She never felt completely comfortable there for that very reason. Not to mention, her family only consisted of Althea and her parents. There was absolutely no reason for three people - now two - to have so much more room than they could ever possibly use. Other than the fact that her parents just liked to showed off their status.

Marek's home seemed like the complete opposite in every way. It indeed was small, but perhaps that was what made it seem so welcoming. Althea knew she wouldn't feel like she was ruining it once she stepped inside, because it already looked so well-used. It was a white stone building with a deep green door and shutters. The paint on them was peeling and faded in places, but at least it looked much better than those places the Ministry wanted her to go to. Best of all, Marek's house had a chimney.

"My parents didn't think so," Marek said, fumbling around in his pocket for his wand as they approached. "They couldn't tell me enough how I was taking a step down in status by buying 'a shack'." He snorted. "I'm a bachelor. I don't think a single man needs more than this. Why have all that room I'm never going to use? Plus, it's actually come in really useful now, because I couldn't afford to maintain anything bigger."

"It's a status symbol to them," Althea commented. "My parents were the same way. According to them, this house would scream 'I'm poor', and they wouldn't be caught dead letting anyone think that about them."

They had finally reached the three steps leading up to the small porch. These, too, were covered in cracked and peeling paint, and they creaked noisily when Marek and Althea climbed them. Marek raised his wand and tapped the front door with it once. Althea heard several loud clicks and a metallic tinkling sound from beyond, and then the door squeaked open. Marek pulled it open wider and stood aside, motioning for Althea to enter.

Althea walked into a sitting room, and it looked absolutely nothing like the outside. There was a plush maroon rug on the floor covering polished cherry wood floorboards. In the middle of the room sat two overstuffed maroon sofas that formed a sitting area around a cherry wood coffee table. Across from the table was a large, ornate fireplace which Althea had been hoping for. Maroon velvet curtains hung over the windows, and in the corner near the door, facing out the front window, was a cherry wood desk. Pulled up to it was a matching wooden chair with a large, fluffy maroon cushion on it. The area was in absolute disarray, covered in stacks of parchment, notebooks, quills, and ink bottles. Althea didn't know how anyone could find anything in that mess.

"My parents," Marek explained in response to the look Althea gave him. "If the outside of my house was too small to look nice, at least they could make the inside presentable. They bought me all this furniture as housewarming presents. I didn't even want it at the time, but…" He paused, glancing around the room. "It's kind of grown on me. Besides, it makes me feel better to know that they'd probably be disgusted at the thought of me still using their furniture."

"It seems comfortable anyway," Althea said, setting down her tote near the door. She then plopped down on one of the couches, immediately sinking down into the plushy fabric. A smile overtook her face at the sensation. "Yeah, nothing at all like my parents' furniture."

Marek had moved in front of the fireplace, flicking his wand to start a fire. "At least they let me pick everything out. I refused to get fancy chairs that made you feel like you were sitting on a slab of concrete. What the hell's the point?"

Althea shrugged, glancing about the room again. She froze when something on the other side of the room from the door caught her eye. There was a low bookcase set under a window, this one also cherry red to match the room. That, however, wasn't what was so interesting. It was the books neatly set on top of it. Althea got to her feet and made her way over to them. She reached out a hand and ran a finger up one of the spines, as if she was making sure it was real. "Marek," she said a bit breathlessly. "Why didn't you tell me?" She glanced back over her shoulder at him expectantly.

It was Marek's turn to shrug. "You never asked?" That seemed to be one of his favorite things to say.

Althea shook her head, running her eyes back and forth across the books. "I can't imagine why not."

"Believe it or not," Marek chuckled, approaching her from behind, "'I'm a published author' isn't usually the first thing I announce to people. That would be a bit pretentious."

Indeed, before Althea stood a collection of six leather bound books, the cover of each dyed a different bold color with shiny gold lettering. The titles included _The Purple Willow_, _The Dragon Oak_, _Ivy and Ice_, _The Silent Reed_, _Cedar and Snow_, and _The Maple Moon_. The author's name on all of them was Marek Williams.

"You like trees, hm?" Althea observed.

"Mhm," Marek hummed, but then his face fell. "Or I used to. Before I was bitten." He turned around, beginning to pace around the small sitting room. "I used to like the moon, too, hence the title of the last one. I suppose it's poetic justice that that turned out to be my last published title before I was bitten." He sighed heavily, glancing past Althea to the window over the bookshelf. "I used to like the outdoors a lot. Now it's a little hard considering how it was my very love for it that put me in this position."

Althea didn't reply, but she kept her attention focused on the novels before her. She kept running her fingers over them, like she still couldn't believe what she was seeing. She'd never met a published author before, and that thought awakened something in her. That need of an artist to find some way to express themselves, that need that would never die no matter how long it was stifled. Marek had it, too.

"Those were all published before I was bitten," Marek went on. "They weren't huge successes, hence why you've probably never heard of me, but I made a little money. Enough to put away, and enough to keep me going this last year. I've been desperately trying to get published again since my bite, but…no one exactly wants to buy anything from a werewolf, no matter how much money I've made in the past. I've sold a few short stories here and there since, but I want so badly to get back into novel writing, and it isn't exactly going well."

Althea had turned to face him. "Couldn't you…people use pennames all the time. No one has to know they're coming from a werewolf."

Marek opened his mouth to reply, but only a soft breath came out at first. "I know. It seems like such a simple solution. One that would solve all my problems, but…I don't know. It doesn't seem right for some reason. I don't want to hide from who I am. I'm not ashamed of it, no matter how much humans would have us believe we should be. And if I have any kind of success now, I think it should be as werewolf. It would prove something to all those who think we're nothing but barbaric monsters - that some of us can live like humans and do a good job at it."

Althea considered this. "I never thought of it that way." For the very first time since they had met, things seemed a little bit awkward between them. In effort to break it, Althea tried to keep the conversation going. "I never told you, either, but I fancy myself a bit of an artist."

"You either are an artist or you aren't," Marek said decisively. He approached Althea once more and reached past her to straighten his books. He obviously cared a lot about them, especially to be displaying them so prominently in his home. "There is no fancying about it."

"Er…" Althea stumbled for a moment. "Well, then I am. I am an artist. My mum bought me an art set for Christmas when I was ten. It was a real professional art set, even though she didn't think it would be anything but a fun hobby for me. Nothing but the best. It actually took me a while to get into it, a good couple years before I had the courage to even try it. I was afraid I'd end up making some horrendous mess, but I finally gave it a go one summer, and…I didn't stop. I painted all through my teenage years, and I had this crazy idea that I could even make a living from it." She laughed, a broken nervous sound. "My parents thought it was ridiculous. Only _really_ talented people made any reasonable amount of money from such things, and they thought I'd fall into the category of _starving_ artist." Glancing up at Marek hopefully, she asked, "Were your parents like that at all?"

"My parents didn't really care, to be honest." He shrugged, frowning in thought. "As long as I was doing _something_ that was making some kind of money, they were okay with it, I guess. I suppose it is a bit weird now that you mention it - that they didn't want me to do something terribly lucrative and glamorous. Perhaps they hoped that this would turn out to be exactly that for me. Like that Muggle bloke. Stephen King, isn't it?"

Althea's eyebrows went in confusion and she shook her head. "I've never been up on Muggle celebrities." To her parents, Muggles were dirty, so there was absolutely nothing about any of them worth knowing.

"Perhaps it's just as well," Marek said, turning and facing a door directly to their right. He turned back to Althea and added, "I heard he's really creepy." Before Althea could respond, he pushed the door open and gestured inside. "The kitchen. Nothing spectacular in there, either."

Beyond Marek's form in the doorway, Althea saw a counter, a few cabinets, and the edge of a dining table. Similarly to the sitting room, they were all in cherry wood with accents of maroon. Even the floor was covered in a deep red tile.

"And I'm sorry to say that I _eat_ like a bachelor," Marek said apologetically. "I don't have much food at all here. Things are tight, obviously, so I don't really want to invest that much money into stocking the place all at once. There's a market not far from here, and I usually take a walk there most days to pick up a few things. So…my apologies for not really having my place ready for a guest. My parents would have been disgraced."

Althea waved her hand. "It's fine. I haven't been very hungry lately anyway."

Marek hummed sympathetically in response, then let the kitchen door swing close behind him. He crossed the room again, stepping past Althea. There was another door on that side of the room which he opened as well. It led to a small and narrow hallway with three more doors.

"The stairs to the basement, my room, and the loo," he said, pointing them all out to her in turn, left to right. "Unfortunately, that's all there is. As I told you at the hospital, all I can offer to you is the couch," he added a bit sheepishly. "Or you can have my bed, and I'll take the couch if you'd rather. I don't care. At least the couch is comfortable."

It seemed like Marek was beginning to ramble, so Althea decided to put him out of his misery. "The couch is fine for me. And I think you're forgetting that without you, I wouldn't have anything right now. Probably just a cardboard box on the street corner. Believe me, this is more than enough."

For the briefest moment, Althea thought she caught the faintest rush of color in Marek's cheeks. It was gone just as quickly, and Marek bowed his head, his ginger hair falling to obscure his face anyway. He entered the hallway, pulling open the door to the basement next.

"Can I show you where we'll be spending full moons?" he asked. "It's not much to look at, either, but at least it gets the job done."

Althea nodded, and Marek began leading her down the narrow set of wooden steps. It had only occurred to Althea just how insecure Marek seemed. When she had met him in the hospital, he had seemed so sure of himself, and she began to assume that that was a large part of his personality. Now, she wasn't so sure. Once she had gotten to know him a bit, that confident demeanor had given way to a very uncertain individual. Althea supposed the fact that he was something that so many people hated was a large part of it, but in other ways, she wasn't so sure.

At the bottom of the stairs, there was a rather large concrete room that stretched out to the right. It appeared to be a storage area of some sort, because it contained several cardboard boxes. Many of them were coming apart at the seams, beginning to spill out their contents on the floor. At least nothing looked to be too important - just a bunch of pieces of parchment with scribbles on them.

Marek cleared his throat, sounding embarrassed. "Sorry for the mess. I didn't really have time to clean up. All of this happened so unexpectedly, and…I'm not really much of a host anyway. That was always my parents' department."

"Mine, too, believe me, so I'm not really one to judge."

Just to the left of the stairs was another door. Marek pushed this one open next, revealing what seemed to be a laundry room. There was a large washing tub in the center of the room, which was also surrounded with several more boxes exploding at the edges with even more paper.

"I think we should each take a room when we transform," Marek explained. "I can charm the door so we can't get through. I've never been around another werewolf during a transformation before, so I'm not sure how or if we'd get along. I'd be worried about one of us hurting the other, so I think it just might be safer this way."

Althea wasn't exactly fond of the idea of spending the entire transformation in this gloomy basement room by herself. The very thought of the change terrified her, and she had an inkling of hope that being with someone during it would make it just a tiny bit easier. Then again, she supposed he was right, because they certainly didn't want to be injuring each other unnecessarily. She nodded.

Marek gestured around to the boxes. "Don't worry if you destroy anything. These are mostly disregarded story ideas and notes. Most of it has a way of sticking in my mind anyway, so I'll probably never look at this stuff again, but I just can't bring myself to get rid of it. All of my important notes are safe and sound in a filing cabinet in my room."

When he started leading her back up the steps, something occurred to Althea. "Do you have the Wolfsbane?" she asked. She didn't realize until it was out of her mouth just what a stupid question it was. Marek was poor; of course he wouldn't be able to afford a luxury like the Wolfsbane. It was her turn to blush.

"Yes, I do."

"Oh." Althea's tone was one of amazement. Just about every single thing that she thought impossible turned out to be something that Marek had or was doing himself. It gave her confidence. "Isn't it expensive?"

"Yeah," Marek sighed. "Very expensive." When he got to the top of the flight of stairs, he stood aside so that Althea could pass him in the hall. She gave him a very curious expression, and he explained, "I have a sympathetic healer, that's all. Don't look at me like I'm doing something illegal."

Althea found her face flushing again. She pretended to push her hair back from her face in an attempt to try and hide it. "I wasn't. Just surprised, that's all. But…they have sympathetic healers?" she joked.

Marek smiled. "They do. You just have to find the right one. Which would probably prove to be a difficult task, but he was recommended to me by that werewolf I met. I got quite lucky."

Althea walked back out into the sitting room, Marek following along behind her. When she turned to face him again, she asked, "Does he let you have it for free?"

"Not quite, but he accepts payments in means other than money."

One of Althea's eyebrows went up. "Do I even want to know?"

Marek crossed him arms over his chest and scoffed. "You have a rather filthy mind. And it's not what it sounds like. I pay him in stories, actually."

"Oh," Althea said again, frowning. "That's rather innocuous." Marek snorted, and then the room fell silent. It was another one of those pauses between them that was bordering on uncomfortable. Why did being in Marek's house seem to have that effect on them? Althea shook her head and continued before she could chicken out. "I don't want to be presumptuous. And don't think I'm even asking for it, because I'm not. But…"

"I'm sure he'd be willing to help you out as well," Marek cut her off gently. "In fact, I know he has another werewolf patient who's an artist, and she pays him in paintings. I'm sure he'd be glad to accept the same from you."

Althea blinked. "But I don't have any sort of supplies."

"Do you really need them?" When Althea looked confused, Marek clarified, "It occurred to me when you were talking about that professional art set your mother bought for you. Anthony - that's my healer - wouldn't care if you were paying him in simple sketches." He motioned to his desk where all of his writing supplies sat. "You could help yourself to whatever I have. I'm sure you'd be able to come up with something somewhat nice, even with just a piece of parchment and quill."

Althea stared at Marek's desk like everything on it was some sort of alien life form. "I guess I could. I actually never really sketched that much. I just went right into painting freehand. I suppose I could try it. It's been a while since I've really been into my artwork anyway, since my parents didn't think it was very worthwhile. Perhaps starting out in it slowly again would be good for me." There was that pesky silence again, settling into the room like a stubborn intruder. "Your healer sounds amazing."

"He is."

"But he's not…a werewolf himself, right?" It was Marek's turn to frown, so Althea added, "I mean, the way you're describing him, he sounds too good to be true. I thought that the only people who were that sympathetic to werewolves would be werewolves themselves."

Marek grinned. "Nope, not a werewolf. It would be a bit hard for him to make house calls like does on the mornings after full moons if he was in the same state we're going to be in."

A surge of fear rushed through Althea at that comment. She knew the transformation was going to be painful. They talked about that at great length already, but she really hadn't asked what the recovery period would be like - how long she would be bedridden or how much pain she would be in afterwards. She wondered if it was going to be like her post-bite recovery every time.

Marek seemed to sense this, because he quickly added, "It's not as bad as I just made it sound." Althea gave him a doubtful stare, so he said, "It's not. Honest. With the Wolfsbane, we're basically just harmless dogs. I normally don't do any damage to myself at all, which is what I heard can happen without the Wolfsbane. I've been fortunate," Marek said, nodding firmly. "I've always had it, so I don't know what it's like to go without. All I know are stories." Marek, however, seemed to decide that that may not be such a safe topic of conversation, so he decided to change the subject a bit. "I tend to get a bit playful when I'm in my wolf form, just like a puppy, hence why my boxes downstairs are in such a state. I'd invest in some good quality dog toys if I could afford them. Right now, papers and cardboard are about all I can afford to destroy."

Althea took a deep, letting it out slowly in relief. She swallowed audibly and then asked, "And what's it like…after?"

Marek pressed his lips together in thought before he said, "I supposed it's like recovering from a cold or the flu. That period when you start to feel okay, but you're still a little sore and completely exhausted. It usually only lasts for a fraction of the day. More often than not, and nice nap will do you a world of good."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Althea said decisively. It was mostly to reassure herself that transformations wouldn't be so awful.

"No," Marek agree, "they're really not. I mean, I wish I could put a stop to them right now, but…they're really not as bad as I think some people like to make them out to be." Weaving his fingers together thoughtfully, he stared ahead at the crackling flames in the fireplace. "It just might be prejudices rearing their ugly head again. If we think that our situations are so bad, we just might let them get to us and take it out on the rest of the world." He rolled his eyes. "Or something. I don't know. Who knows what people think."

That made something else occur to Althea. "So why doesn't your healer think those things? What's his name - Anthony?"

Marek nodded in response, but then he was silent for a moment, squinting his eyes in thought. "Anthony doesn't like to talk about it, but from what I can gather, I _think_ either his mother or his father was a werewolf. Anthony is older, he was born in the thirties. I'm not sure when his mum or dad was bitten, but if things are still this bad now, imagine what they would have been like for werewolves all those years ago. Which is why I suspect he doesn't like to talk about it. I get the feeling that something awful might have happened to one of his parents as a result. He won't answer any direct questions about it, but he's let a few things slip here and there. Just enough for me to put two and two together, and it's just in the way he talks about his parents, and the way he talks about werewolves in general." Marek suddenly blinked, as if he was recognizing that he had said too much. "It's not even any of my business. It's just hard not to notice things like this now, you know?"

Althea nodded slowly. "Yeah. I imagine so."

They were quiet again, their friendly conversation fleeting the room so quickly, it felt like they might be strangers again. When Althea thought about it, however, they virtually were strangers. They had only known each other for _four days_, which was absolutely absurd. What was she doing staying in the house of a man she barely even knew? Normally, in what she was beginning to think of as her "old life", she never would done anything like this. If any man she had known for four days had invited her to stay with him, she would have written him off as some kind of weirdo, and she would have stayed far away from him. Not move in with him for any length of time, which was this amounted to.

In the end, it was because Althea didn't have a choice. It was because her parents didn't care at all what happened to her. It was because the wizarding world was so prejudiced, they couldn't offer her anything other than what appeared to be dirty, disgusting, unsafe places. They had all backed her into a corner, and she didn't have any other way out than to take up with a man seven years her senior. Not that Althea minded. She was starting to like Marek more and more with each passing minute, and in this case, Althea thought she was making the safest and best choice for herself. How odd, that such a twist of fate would make the most dangerous option seem like the most secure.

Perhaps it was because they were both werewolves. They understood each other in ways that few others could, and they were both in this boat together now. Althea was sure there were a few people here and there that were sympathetic towards werewolves, but she currently trusted most humans as far as she'd be able to throw them. The sad truth was there just weren't many people werewolves could rely on. If they couldn't even trust each other, then they'd have no one at all.

Marek began rubbing at the back of his neck like he was embarrassed. It was almost as if he could sense exactly what Althea thinking, that he was reading her soul. Althea got that feeling with Marek a lot. "Er…would you like some tea?" he asked. Althea suspected he just wanted something to do so they wouldn't be forced to stand there and stare at each other any longer. "I don't have much, but I do have supplies for tea."

"Sure."

Marek motioned around the room. "Make yourself at home, and I'll be right back." He turned towards the kitchen and scurried out of the room.

Althea placed her hands on her hips and turned around on her spot, taking in the room again. She was just trying to get used to the fact that this would be her home for the foreseeable future. It was something she never expected - that she would be out of her parents' home so soon and on her own. She knew she couldn't live with them forever, but since they liked to keep such a close on eye on her, they could do so more easily if she was under their roof. Althea began to get the feeling that they would never let her leave, because then they wouldn't be able to keep her in check anymore. Never, in a million years, did she imagine that things would change so quickly and so drastically for her.

Althea then spotted her canvas bag still laying on the floor near the door, which pulled her out of her thoughts. "Hey," she called, loud enough so that Marek would be able to hear her in the next room. "Mind if I burn some papers?"

"Help yourself." After a long pause, he added a bit frantically, "By 'papers', you don't mean any of my books or stories, do you?"

Althea snorted. "No, of course not. Just some rubbish ones the Ministry gave me."

"Oh," Marek said over the clanking of what sounded like plates and silverware together. "Oh, good. Knock yourself out then. Just don't burn my house down. I kind of need it."

Althea strode across the room with purpose, hooking the fingers of one hand under the strap of her bag. She hoisted it up and carried it back across the room to the fireplace. She sat down on the carpet just in front of the hearth, taking a moment to relax in the warmth it projected.

Althea was rather grateful that Marek had had the foresight to start the fire in the first place, because it was such a stark contrast to her parents' home. They had plenty of money, yes, but they were also unnecessarily greedy with it. If there was any way at all they could cut corners and save a little, they'd do it. Skimping on heating their home was just one of those ways. It was always so cold and unwelcoming. Like a tomb. This roaring fire already made Marek's home seem so much more friendlier, so much more inviting. Almost like she belonged there.

Shaking the images from her head, Althea leaned over and unhooked the clasps on her bag. She opened it, rummaging around inside through the few meager possessions that she had left. When her hand finally closed around the sheaves of papers, she pulled them out and looked over them. One at a time, she began throwing them into the flames, feeling a little bit more released with every one that caught fire. When they were all set ablaze, she leaned back, taking a deep and cleansing breath.

"What specifically are we burning?" Marek asked, returning to the room. He had a small ceramic tray with him with a steaming teapot and two teacups set on it. He set it down on the coffee table behind Althea, joining her on the floor. He seemed almost excited at the prospect of burning something from the Ministry.

Althea smirked. "Just those brochures they give you about colonies and safe houses."

"Ah." Marek twisted around, reaching for the teapot and filling their cups. "The propaganda."

"Indeed."

A moment later, Marek handed her a steaming cup of tea. They fell into silence again, this one much more comfortable than the last few. They simply watched the flames in the fireplace, not needing to say anything more to each other. Not right then. They didn't need to.

Althea thought she could really get used to calling this place home, at least for a little while. At least until she could support herself. For as long as Marek would have her.

Unbeknownst to her, it wouldn't be her home for very long at all.

_To be continued…_


	6. Chapter 6: Prisoner

**Shades of Grey: Althea's Story**  
Chapter 6 - Prisoner

Despite her best efforts to the contrary, Marek insisted that he would sleep on the couch and that Althea should take his bed. It made Althea feel slightly guilty. Marek had already done so much for her, and she hated the idea that she was putting him out of his bedroom on top of it all. He, however, wouldn't hear any different.

His bedroom was decorated similarly to the rest of the house. All of the furniture was made out of cherry wood, while all the fabrics in the room were in deep shades of red. Althea had never really been one for the color red, neither in wood or otherwise, but for some inexplicable reason, she was beginning to like Marek's taste in colors. She even had an insane idea that if she ever did end up in her own place - which still seemed impossible to her at the moment - she would decorate it the same way.

Maybe it was a werewolf thing - a fondness for the color red. It would explain why Althea suddenly seemed to like it now when she never had before. Then again, that thought scared her senseless. Did werewolves crave blood so much that they liked anything and everything that reminded them of it? Was this condition making her into a bloodthirsty monster? Would she now be driven to seek out blood during transformations when the very thought of it made her sick to her stomach? What if she refused herself blood like she was fully intending on doing? Would it make the wolf angry, and would it, in turn, make her even more crazed? Would she end up not being able to control herself at all, even when she was in human form?

Althea turned over in Marek's bed, pulling his thick and warm covers more tightly around herself. She stared out the window across the room, hoping that that would give her a much-needed distraction from her thoughts. In the end, that didn't really help, because the moon was large and almost perfectly round in the window. It peeked in through the crack in the curtains, hanging there and mocking her like some sick reminder of what was to come.

Althea kept trying to convince herself that her fondness of the things in Marek's home was just due to the fact that she was truly beginning to feel at home here. With every single day that passed, she was becoming more comfortable, not just in the house itself, but with Marek as well. It had only been two weeks, but she already felt like she belonged there, and she couldn't imagine being anywhere else. Not even with her parents. They now seemed so foreign to her, almost forgotten in the events that had occurred over the last month.

If not for the impending full moon - ironically, the very thing that had put her into this position in the first place - things just might have been perfect. Althea couldn't believe that her first transformation was the very next night. She couldn't believe that it had come so quickly. It was so impossibly close, not just in terms of time, but in other ways as well. The idea was absolutely ludicrous, but she thought she could actually feel the moon. She could feel where it was in the sky, could feel it pulling against her. The sensation was making her crazy. It was making her skin itchy, and she kept getting the urge to rip it off. That seemed like the only reasonable way of stopping it, which made Althea feel like she was truly losing her mind.

With every single minute that passed, the feeling intensified, grew more unbearable. If she felt that way now, what would the actual transformation be like? Marek kept telling her that it would be okay, that she would get through it, but the closer it came, the more she began to doubt that. She couldn't handle this feeling, the thoughts it was putting into her mind. The way it made her feel more and more like the animal that she was, like she was losing control. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this transformation was going to be horrific, so she didn't know what Marek was even on about. Things _wouldn't_ be okay. They never would be again, because she was going to have to deal with this every single month for the rest of her life.

She didn't know how Marek could be so well-adjusted. How he could be so _accepting_ of the turn his life had taken. The very idea seemed impossible to Althea. Given, there wasn't anything on earth that either of them could do about it. This was the way things were, the situation they had gotten themselves into, and they needed to deal with it. But Althea was so angry! So much so that she wanted to hurt someone. Specifically, she wanted to harm the stupid werewolf that had bitten her in the first place, or at least her parents for making her feel so alone, or…just someone. It felt like it was consuming her, and she doubted very much that she could ever really feel happy again. That she could ever find contentment when her life was so messed up. Not like Marek had.

That made her feel slightly angry with him. Or maybe not angry exactly, but just jealous. Jealous of the fact that things seemed to be so easy for him, so perfect. In reality, she knew they weren't. Far from it. Things had been just as difficult for Marek as they had been for Althea, and he had truly struggled to retain some semblance of a normal life. But he had that now. Althea hadn't seen all of the hard work he had done to get here, so she supposed it was easy for her to look at the results and think it might have been easy, that he hadn't struggled very much. However, he'd still had a home already established by the time he'd been bitten. That was something Althea knew she'd never be able to have, no matter how hard she worked for it. Marek was struggling to feed the both of them as it was; he ever would have been able to afford a house after the fact. No one in their right mind would ever pay a werewolf that much money to do anything. Why the hell couldn't that damned werewolf have waited to bite her, at least for a few years? Given her some time to get her life together before it was thrown all to hell?

That was silly though. Life didn't wait for you to get comfortable and ready. It just happened, and you needed to be able to adjust to the changes it tossed your way. It just seemed unfair that Marek had had a little bit more time to get his life into order before had had been bitten. Althea had only been out of Hogwarts for a year, and she'd only had her Ministry job for six months. Hardly enough time to even save up any money for things such as houses.

Althea didn't want to be angry at Marek. After all, he had taken her in when she hadn't had anywhere else to go. Out of the goodness of his heart, he was putting food on table for her as well when he could barely afford to feed himself. He even let her borrow his clothes. Althea was a tiny girl, and she positively swam in Marek's things, but it was better than wearing the only outfit she had left to her name day after day. He didn't deserve to be the object of her rage when he was doing everything in his power to help her. But Althea couldn't help it. Ever since she'd been bitten, she'd been experiencing bouts of anger with everyone and everything, even when it was completely irrational for her to feel that way.

It was just another one of the casualties of what she now was, she supposed. That was simply the nature of the wolf. No matter how much Marek tried to convince her otherwise, Althea didn't think she could ever stop thinking of herself as a monster. Althea had never had bouts of unreasonable anger before being bitten, so she could only attribute it to that. To being an animal. Moreover, only animals ever had things like fur and claws. Not human beings, despite what she looked like every other day of the month.

Sighing heavily, Althea began to give up on the idea of slumber. She'd been sleeping okay since she'd arrived at Marek's, but the closer the full moon came, the more elusive any sort of rest became. The harder it became for her to relax at all, because her mind was so consumed with thoughts about her current predicament. Althea finally sat up and pushed the covers aside. She was only wearing one of Marek's oversized t-shirts and a pair of his boxer shorts, so she shivered when the cool autumn air of the room hit her bare skin.

Stretching, Althea let her bare feet drop to the floor. The carpet in this room was the same as out in the sitting room - plush and soft beneath her feet. She took a moment to rub her feet back and forth across the fibers, reveling in the small comfort they brought to her. It was one of the few things that felt nice to her anymore.

She also wondered what that said about her, about her current state of mind - only being able to find comfort in something silly like the rug. Before she could let herself think too much about it, however, she pushed herself up from the mattress. She stepped into the slippers she'd left by the bedside, the ones the Ministry had provided her with.

After burning the papers the Ministry had given her, Althea had to contain the urge to burn everything from them. Why should she even accept and keep anything when they hated her kind so much? The principle of it seemed wrong to Althea, similar to the reason why Marek wouldn't ever use a pseudonym to publish his work now - it just wasn't right. However, Althea just couldn't bring herself to part with anything they had given her. The slippers in particular were pink and fuzzy - two of her favorite things - and they kept her feet warm. Besides, Althea didn't have much else to her name, and she supposed she needed to take what she could get, even if it did come from someplace like the Ministry. Althea would keep her few meager possessions and be happy about it.

Althea quietly made her way out into the sitting room where Marek was passed out on one of the sofas, a blanket thrown messily across him. He had the oddest ways of sleeping, Althea was coming to find. He was sprawled out on his back, one of his arms thrown up over the arm of the couch, and the other was dangling down near the floor, his fingers not quite reaching the carpet. If Althea tried to sleep in a position like that, she'd most probably lose circulation to both of her arms, but Marek seemed completely comfortable and seemed to favor similar sleeping positions.

Every afternoon as it started getting on towards dinnertime, Marek started a roaring fire in the fireplace. He and Althea had even taken to eating in the sitting room, because Althea couldn't get enough of being in front of the roaring flames. Especially now, as the full moon was drawing ever closer, it seemed to be the only thing that soothed her antsy feelings.

The fire was nothing more than a pile of bright red embers now, but it provided just enough light to see by. It threw a glow upon Marek's face that emphasized his features, particularly his coppery red hair that had fallen over his peacefully closed eyes. Althea smiled, and she then felt her cheeks grow warm, which was absolutely silly. There was nothing to be blushing about, not when Marek was sound asleep and couldn't even _see_ her.

She didn't even know why seemed to be blushing around him so much to begin with. This was _Marek_, not some boy she'd met in school. She still barely even knew him, and not to mention, Marek was seven years older than she was. It wasn't a huge different, but at her age, she felt like it was a lifetime. If anything, he probably felt like a big brother to her. Nothing more.

Shaking her head, Althea continued on towards the kitchen, intending to get a drink of water. She'd sit at the kitchen table for a while, feeling sorry for herself like she did most nights, and she'd return to bed when she grew too exhausted to sit any longer. No more of this nonsense like watching Marek in his sleep. Althea reached out for the kitchen door, but just before she laid her fingers on the wooden surface, he called to her in the darkness.

"Althea?"

Althea froze to her spot and her heart started beating erratically, almost like she'd been caught doing something dirty. Which she hadn't, so this was absolutely absurd. She didn't move and didn't reply, hoping that he'd think whatever had awoken him had been a dream, and go back to sleep. No such luck. Althea heard some rustling behind her, and when she glanced back over her shoulder, she could see Marek sitting up on the couch. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and smiled blearily at her over the back of the couch in the darkness.

"Hey," he said quietly. "Can't sleep?"

Althea swallowed hard, still feeling like a little kid who'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She'd only realized just now how incredibly dry her mouth was and how desperately she wanted that drink. She shook her head and opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to get some moisture back into it. "Er…I'm sorry," she apologized. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't." He stretched a bit and added around a yawn, "I don't sleep well. You know that."

Althea's breath grew hard and heavy. That really hadn't been what she'd wanted to hear. If Marek had apparently been awake this entire time, had he seen her standing there and staring at him? Had he seen the way she stood and stared at him every night since she'd come to live with him?

Marek sat up a little bit straighter and patted the cushion next to him, inviting Althea to join him. She remained by the kitchen door for a very long time, not quite trusting herself at the moment. Trust herself with what, she wasn't sure. But Marek kept looking at her expectantly over the back of the couch, giving her curious glances for why she wouldn't budge.

Sighing, she finally gave in and turned towards him, making her way back to the sofa. She came around to the front of it, dropping down next to Marek. He was propped up against one of the arms, one leg folded and pulled up to his chest while his other foot rested on the floor. He was wearing red and blue plaid pajama pants with a matching blue t-shirt. She liked him in the color blue. It matched his eyes.

Althea brought up a hand and used it to rub at her face harshly so that he wouldn't see the color in her cheeks again. She wished she could stop acting like a silly schoolgirl, for Merlin's sake. Perhaps that was why the color red normally irked her so much. Not because it was the color of blood, or pain, or death, but because it was the color of embarrassment.

"What's wrong?" Marek asked, scooting a little bit closer to her.

Althea wrung her hands together before she said, "I'm just…scared. I keep thinking about tomorrow night, about what it'll be like…" She gave him a desperate look, like he might be the one to be able to take away all of her fears. "I don't think I can handle this."

Marek closed the rest of the distance between them. He reached out an arm, wrapping it around her shoulders and pulling her towards him. At first, she didn't go willingly. She remained stiff like a statue, refusing to get any closer to him, but finally, something inside her broke. She suddenly felt completely and utterly weak and unable to stand on her own. She almost fell into him, burying her head in his shoulder and closing her eyes tightly. Maybe if she tried hard enough, if she hid from them long enough, her problems just might forget about her and leave her alone.

That thought made a sob rise up in her throat. Althea felt so much like a scared little child that went running to a parent to help them. Only she wasn't a child anymore. She was an adult, and her parents weren't around to help her. That meant that no matter what she tried, they wouldn't be able to fix things for her. They just wouldn't. No one could.

Marek brought his other arm up, resting his hand on her back. He hugged her tightly, patting her back gently to try and offer her some comfort.

"Yes, you can," he said firmly. "I promise. I know it doesn't feel like it right now. I know it feels like your world is coming to an end. I was there myself not very long ago. It feels like everything is wrong, and you'll never learn how to adjust to it, but I promise you can. You can get through this. Your world may be a little bit changed now, but it isn't over. Your life isn't over."

Althea still wasn't sure that she believed him. She trusted him - as much as she could after a few weeks and as much as she trusted anyone at the moment - and she wanted to believe he was telling her the truth, but that normal life he was talking about still seemed so elusive. So far out of her grasp. Something she'd never have, never be able to achieve. Not like Marek did.

Marek seemed to sense this, because he sighed softly into her hair and began rocking her back and forth. That tiny little gesture was so reminiscent of Althea's mother, and perhaps that was exactly what she needed right then. To feel completely safe and protected, even though there really wasn't anything Marek could do to stop the pain that she was sure to go through. Althea let out a slightly contented breath, relaxing against even more.

"That's why there are werewolves like Fenrir Greyback out there, I think," he mused quietly. It was like he could tell she was falling asleep again, and he was keeping his voice low to try and soothe her further. Like he was telling her some kind of perverse bedtime story. "They automatically assume that their life is over, so what's the point in even trying to live a normal one? Everyone already thinks we're a bunch of animals, so why bother trying to prove otherwise? What's that saying - can't beat 'em, join 'em, right?" He let out a breath of disbelief. "I doubt most of them ever even tried. Can you honestly imagine _Greyback_ eating at a table or trying to find a job?"

Althea shook her head and snorted softly.

"And therein lies the problem," Marek said decisively. "They never even bothered to find an alternative. Do you honestly think anyone would _choose_ a life like the one Greyback has? Do you think he woke up one day and decided, 'I'm going to live like an animal'? But they settle for it, because they don't think they can have anything better. Because society has pushed them down so damn far, they think they're worthless." He shook his head, his teeth clenched tightly. "And then they get mad at werewolves like Greyback for feeling like they're out of options. It's such a vicious cycle."

Things were quiet for a long time, save for the few last crackling coals in the fireplace. Then Marek asked, "Althea?"

Althea had almost dozed off, but she hummed, "Hm?"

"Promise me something."

"What?"

"Promise me you won't ever become like that." Sleep had already begun to reclaim Althea's mind, so she wasn't entirely sure what he meant at first. Before she could inquire, he clarified, "Like Greyback. Like an animal. That no matter what happens, wherever this happens to take you, you won't give in to that part of the wolf."

Althea didn't ever want to become like that, but a part of her wondered if that was even possible - to keep control over that side of the wolf if it wanted to come out.

"It's possible," Marek said, making Althea feel like he was reading her thoughts again. How the hell did he do that? Or perhaps it was because he had been through all of this already, he had tread this path before, and he was only answering the questions that he'd had once upon a time.

"I'm living proof of that," he continued. "So is the werewolf that took me under his wing. He showed me that things didn't have to be like that, that things weren't so black and white for us as some people would have us believe. He showed me that it is still very much possible to remain human through this, and you know I wouldn't tell you if it wasn't true." Marek pulled away from her a little bit and reached up to cup her face in his hands. He looked at her intently. "Promise me you'll stay that way, too - human." He lowered a hand and laid it firmly over her heart. "You're still a good person in here, and the wolf can't touch that part of you if you don't want it to. So promise me you won't let it."

Althea's breath had caught in her throat, and she had trouble responding at first. She almost didn't want to answer, because either way, she felt like she'd be letting him down. He'd be disappointed if she refused, and if she agreed, but didn't live up to that promise, he'd be just as upset. But she couldn't say no, because this was something she wanted just as much as he did. She wanted to live a good life, and she wanted to be the kind of werewolf that didn't follow the stereotype.

"I promise," she whispered.

Marek hugged her tightly to him again, and Althea curled up against him. Marek pulled the blanket around them, and somehow, miraculously, sleep came to claim Althea once again.

Althea didn't know it then, but her promise to Marek would become the one thread to which her humanity would cling over the next two years.

* * *

The next day, Althea and Marek ate an early dinner, and then Althea spent quite some time pacing around the sitting room of Marek's cottage. She kept going to one of the front windows to look up at the sky. Every time she did, she would see that the sun had sunk lower towards the horizon, and Althea's heart felt like it was doing exactly the same. Althea kept praying that the sun would somehow freeze, as impossible as she knew that was. That it would stop its trek, and that it would remain daylight forever. How odd, that with all of the magic her world had created over the years, they still couldn't help some things.

Althea thought about the fact that she'd never see the full moon as a human again. Much like Marek once had, Althea used to love the outdoors. She would often sit and admire the moon, especially when it was full. It never really occurred to them beforehand the sort of horribly unfair power that silvery orb could hold over a small fraction of the population. Not until that bad fortune had befallen the both of them. Althea couldn't imagine ever looking at the moon, full or not, with anything other than contempt ever again. Now it only seemed to symbolize pain and everything it had taken away from her. It could never be anything other a bad thing now. How quickly things changed.

Just as Marek had said, Anthony was more than willing to provide Althea with the Wolfsbane potion as well. Althea had only done a sketch of the only thing that was on her mind at the moment - what she thought her wolf would look like. It definitely wasn't her best work, but Anthony had been more than happy to accept it as payment for his services.

It turned out that the Wolfsbane was completely nasty, and Althea didn't know if she wanted to take it ever again. Marek insisted that she did - that its horrible taste was a small price to pay to avoid letting the wolf take over completely during the transformation. Althea supposed he was right, but even so, the potion did little to assuage her fears. She was still scared out of her mind about what the transformation would bring, about the level of pain she would have endure, regardless of whether she'd be able to keep her human mind or not.

With every minute, every second that passed, Althea grew more and more antsy. The sensation that she'd had last night, the one that made her skin itchy grew stronger and stronger as the full moon drew closer. She kept scratching at herself and wiggling, like she might have been covered in bugs, and she was trying to get them off. But there wasn't anything there.

Marek was watching her warily from the sofa, but aside from his concern for her, he didn't seem the least bit perturbed by anything.

"How can you stand that?" Althea asked desperately, rubbing furiously at the back of her neck. She almost felt close to tears, the sensation was bothering her so much.

"It's not like that for me," Marek said, "not anymore." He got up from the sofa and came over to her. He faced her and placed his hands on her shoulders. She made to pull away from him at first, but he tightened his grip slightly. When she finally stilled, he began to massage at her shoulders, hoping to drive away some of her discomfort.

"It's really horrible before the first change, I know," Marek said. "It's still very new, and your body doesn't know what to expect. It's still trying to fight it off, like it's an infection. Which it is, but one that can't be fought off. After the first full cycle, it'll be better. It becomes more like a part of you rather that something your body is trying to get rid off."

Althea scowled. "I wish it would still try to get rid of it."

"I know," Marek sighed. "But it won't be anywhere near this uncomfortable next full moon, I promise, and you don't need to tear your skin off to get there." Althea blushed again, ashamed at some of the thoughts she was having, but Marek said, "I did, too. Believe me. But you get used to it, and it'll dull down to a…" He paused to think for a moment, glancing up at the ceiling, as if it might have all the answers. "It's a warm and mild tingly feeling now, I guess you could call it. It's not so bad."

"What about the heightened senses?" Althea asked. "You keep saying those will get better, too, but they're not. Everything's still impossibly loud to me, and…you know you snore? You'd think the closed doors would help, but they don't. I can still hear you loud and clear in the bedroom."

Marek smirked. "So I've been told, yes. And I promise you that'll get better as well once the first moon is over. Your senses will still be more sensitive than they used to be, but you'll get used to them. They'll start to feel more natural to you, and less bothersome and intrusive. It won't be like a damn _Sonorous_ spell in your ear every second anymore."

Althea made a face. "You make it sound like having the first transformation makes everything better."

Marek considered this and replied, "It kind of does." Althea stared at him like he was crazy, and Marek exhaled softly, partially in amusement and partly in exasperation. "I don't wish it so any more than you do. You know I wish we didn't have to go through this shite at all. It's horrible, and it's awful, and it's bloody unfair that life has decided to put us into this position." He stopped, pressing his lips together in contemplation, like he wasn't sure if he should go on or not. "But…once the first transformation is over, it makes this whole thing feel more like a natural part of ourselves, and not like some horrible monster that's trapped inside us, waiting to get out. Not unless we let it become that. All these things you're describing, they're a lot less troublesome once you get this night out of the way. It just becomes a lot more manageable. And that's partly what our lives are all about now, aren't they? Finding a way to make it manageable."

Althea reluctantly nodded. "Yeah," she sighed, even though she still had huge reservations about everything Marek was telling her. Somehow, she couldn't imagine this thing ever getting any better. She couldn't imagine ever not feeling like she wanted to tear her own skin off. Even if the itchy feeling ever subsided, Althea thought she would always feel like there was a monster trapped inside her. She had this insane idea that ripping her skin off would let it out, would free her from this curse, even though she knew it wouldn't. No matter what happened and what she did, she would be doomed to live with this for the rest of her life. Perhaps that was the part of this that was so hard for her - that one stupid little mistake could have such a permanent effect on her life.

Marek glanced out the window one last time before he said, "We should get downstairs. It's still going to be another couple of hours before the actual transformation, but I don't like waiting around till the last minute. Makes me nervous." Althea wasn't too pleased at this prospect - at being locked in a cold and otherwise empty room all night long - so Marek gave her a huge smile of encouragement. He rubbed at her shoulders again and then pulled her into a tight hug. "It'll be all right, and it'll be over before you know it."

Althea simply buried her face in his shoulder as Marek began to lead her down to the basement. Althea had only been in the cellar once before - when she had first come to Marek's house and he had showed her around. It was still just as cold and stark as she had remembered it. The grey cement floor and stone walls rose up around them almost like a prison cell.

Althea supposed that that was one of the worst things about this entire experience - she'd always be a prisoner. As much as the Ministry insisted they weren't jails, that she'd be free to come and go as she pleased, the colonies and safe houses they offered were still exactly that. Prisons were the last chance for some people after all, and so were the colonies. If Althea refused to be a captive to the Ministry, if she tried her hardest to make it on her own, she'd still always be a prisoner to the wolf. She'd never be able to just live her life. Consideration would always have to be given to the moon, to where in the cycle it would be when she wanted to do certain things. She would constantly have to worry about whether she had a safe place to transform, whether she had access to the Wolfsbane and health care from someone other than the Ministry. She was no longer just Althea; she was Althea and the wolf.

Now that she was in the basement, now that the transformation was nearly upon them, the fear was almost paralyzing. Althea couldn't fathom the thought of staying in this room all night by herself. She couldn't bear the thought of going through this alone, without Marek. Over the last few weeks, he'd come to be the only thing she had left, the only person to support her through this difficult time. This unlikely man who had stumbled into her life when she'd needed someone the most had become everything to her, no matter if she had known him for three weeks or three years.

Marek had opened the door to the laundry room, preparing to enter the room that would separate them for the night, but Althea stopped him. She grabbed onto the sleeve of his robes, tightly wrapping her fingers in the fabric.

"Stay with me," she pleaded. Marek looked like he was going to object, but Althea wouldn't let him. She went on before he could get a word in edgewise. "I know you're worried. I know you'd rather we stay apart, but…" Althea hung her head and let out a defeated breath. She was embarrassed and ashamed that she was being so weak and clingy, but she couldn't help it. "I can't. I can't do this alone. Maybe next time, once I've been through this and know what to expect, but…not now. Please. I need you." Her hand had tightened in Marek's sleeve so much that her knuckles had begun to turn white.

Marek hesitated for a very long time. His eyes first went to the open door to the laundry room, staring through it almost longingly. When he looked at Althea once more, he was met with an expression of almost pure desperation on her face. Any resolve that had been present on Marek's face crumbled in that instant.

"And you've got me," he said reassuringly. He pressed a hand into the small of her back, pulling her closer and laying a soft kiss on top of her hair. Without another word, he guided her towards the back of the room where he had a large pile of blankets and pillows laid out. He gestured to it, waiting for her to settle herself on them before he followed suit.

The blankets and pillows were rather worn and tattered. Some of them were becoming threadbare in places while others looked like they had been torn apart and haphazardly repaired. Marek didn't seem to be the best at Repairing Charms, but he got the job done. Not that it mattered. They may not have looked very nice, but they were very soft and soothing to the touch. If nothing else, at least they were able to offer Althea a tiny bit of comfort in this otherwise bleak room.

Althea let out a jagged breath and pulled her knees up to her chest. She wrapped her arms around them and rested her chin on her knees. It was a bit chilly in the basement, and Althea had already begun to miss the roaring fire that Marek always made for them upstairs.

A few seconds later, Marek's arm came around her, gripping her shoulder and drawing her closely to him. He kept telling her that it would be all right, that they would get through it together, but his words seemed to fall on deaf ears. Althea was beginning to doubt everything he had ever told her, because in that moment, Althea didn't think that things would ever be okay ever again.

Indeed, because asking Marek to stay with her would turn out to be one of the things that Althea would regret most in her life. Right up there with wandering into the woods in the first place on that fateful night.

_To be continued…_


	7. Chapter 7: Scars

**Shades of Grey: Althea's Story**  
Chapter 7 - Scars

The very first bolt of pain that hit Althea ripped through her spine. She threw her head back and screamed with the force of it. Her entire body tensed up, her hands drawing into fists and her toes curling in on her feet. She was still seated on the floor, pressed up against the stone wall of Marek's basement. Althea dug her heels into the floor, trying to find purchase on the blankets that dragged across the floor. She pressed her back into the wall, vaguely hoping that that would do something to stop the impending transformation, even though she knew it wouldn't.

In the end, that only served to make the pain worse. A few moments later, another spasm of pain exploded in her back, throwing it violently into the wall. Althea squeezed her eyes shut, her shoulders throbbing. She tried to scream again, but she found her voice itself had almost died; nothing escaped her throat but a strangled groan. She slowly leaned to her right, gently lowering herself to the blankets on the floor, hoping that that would help instead. It didn't.

The next wave of pain didn't stay in her back, but radiated out all over her body. Her arms and legs screamed, and this time, it lasted for far longer than a few seconds. It felt like someone might have been running a car over her limbs. She'd never felt pain like this before in her life, and the transformation had only just begun. Tears began to leak out of the corners of her eyes, because she knew she was in for a hell of a night now. Much worse than she had ever even imagined.

She began to writhe, her body twisting about on the floor to try and find a more comfortable position. Nothing helped, of course, because there was absolutely no stopping this until it had run its course. Althea slowly rolled over onto her back, an exhausted groan escaping from her. She couldn't handle this. She had known that before this had even started, and she knew that now. This was too much for her. She'd never had a high tolerance for pain to begin with, and this was just absolutely unbearable. The thought of doing this month after month made her head spin and her stomach turn.

Then again, she tried to hold on to what Marek and even Healer Smethwyck had told her - that the first transformation was always the worst. Once this one was over, the pain would never be this bad again. Still, that did little to comfort her. Even if the subsequent transformations weren't as bad, they would still hurt, and that thought scared her so badly. Then again, she supposed she was getting ahead of herself. All she should have been focusing on was getting through this initial change. Of getting this obscene amount of pain to end. She'd deal with next month's transformation as it came. And the next one. And the next one after that.

Out of the corner of her eye, Althea saw Marek. He was on his right side, facing her, his body too caught up in tremors of pain. He was breathing heavily, his blue eyes just narrow slits, but they locked with her eyes immediately. Marek thrust out his right hand, reaching out for something. It was almost like he was blindly trying to find something in the dark. Finally, he found what he was looking for, his strong and firm fingers closing around one of Althea's own hands. He squeezed it tightly, trying to offer about the only comfort to her that he had left to give at the moment.

Just when it seemed like Althea's first throes of pain were fading, it began again, this one even worse than before. It felt like someone was ripping her spine apart - like a giant had grabbed her by the neck and legs, and was pulling as hard as they could. That same sensation spread throughout her body, radiating out to all of her limbs. It even extended to her fingers, causing them to cramp up. Althea had never broken a bone before in her life, but she imagined that this was what it would feel like, everything being stretched impossibly far and into positions they weren't meant to go. Still, she didn't let go of Marek's outstretched hand. Her fingers throbbed more with each passing second, and then it felt like pins were being shoved through the tips of them. Althea wasn't even sure how much longer she could sustain her grip, but she didn't care. Right now, Marek was the only thing she had to hold on to. The only thing she had left in the world.

"Please," Althea moaned. She was having trouble focusing on any one object, but she spotted Marek through the haze that her overworked senses seemed to create. "Make it stop," was the only thing she could think of to say. She wasn't necessarily talking to him, but she felt Marek's fingers close tighter yet around hers.

Next, her tailbone began to pound, almost like she had slipped and fallen on it. It caused her back to arch up off the ground, and she opened her mouth in a silent scream. She didn't even have the energy left for that, to give any power to her vocal cords. Even if she did, she doubted she'd even want to scream, because she would eventually make them raw, and she couldn't stand anything else hurting at the moment. She was actually surprised that her vocal cords didn't hurt, because everything else did.

Sweat broke out on her skin, feeling like tiny pinpricks all over her body. It was the same thing she'd been feeling for days, but so much more intense. Althea imagined that her skin might have been boiling, tiny bubbles forming underneath it and exploding. She couldn't stand it anymore. She got the urge to rip it off again, to tear it from her body in an effort to gain some kind of relief, to release the demons that she was sure were inside her. Althea knew she couldn't have stopped herself even if she wanted, because it was much stronger than ever before.

Pulling her hand out of Marek's grasp, she laid it across her own stomach. She sunk her nails into the fabric of her clothes before they planted themselves firmly in her skin. She had no idea what she was even doing. It vaguely occurred to her this was the mark of an insane mind, but she couldn't help it. The only thing that currently mattered to her was finding a way to bring herself some relief, and this seemed like the most logical way to get it.

She dragged her nails across her skin, fresh spikes of pain popping up in their wake. The area immediately felt wet, and that was when she realized that she didn't have fingernails anymore. They were claws, tearing her skin apart and leaving trails of blood behind. Still, she couldn't stop herself. It was some primal urge, overtaking her. Some animal instinct that had been awakened inside her.

Althea whimpered in pain, but she threw her paw over her stomach once again to repeat the process. If she didn't know any better, she would have thought that the wolf was completely in control, tearing her to shreds of its own accord. But no, she'd had the Wolfsbane, and she was still having completely coherent thoughts. She was well aware of what she was doing and exactly how insane it was, but it was somehow out of her control, which made no sense. What the hell was wrong with her?

She braced herself for the sensation of her claws digging into her skin again, but it didn't come. It took her a moment to register that it was because Marek was there. Or Marek's wolf. Althea's vision was oddly blurry, but she could see a large red wolf with a white muzzle standing over her. She could still make out his bright blue eyes, watching her with concern. It was still Marek.

He had wrapped a paw around hers, grabbing it and pulling it away from her body. But no. Her wolf wasn't going to stand for it. It had decided that this was the best course of action, and much like Althea's mindset as of late, no one was going to stop it. Althea struggled against him, throwing her paw out towards him and digging her claws into his muzzle and scraping them across his mouth. Bright red blood sprang up in the white fur, and that made Althea's heart hurt, but the wolf didn't seem to care. Althea threw her paw back over her abdomen, fully intending on carrying on with what it had started.

Marek whimpered, but he, however, wasn't deterred. He simply tackled her next, throwing himself across her body and pinning her limbs under her. Althea's wolf was angry, because she thrashed wildly under him, attempting to throw him off. In the end, Althea was no match for him, because he clearly outweighed her, both in human form and in wolf form. That didn't deter her wolf. She kept scrambling for something, anything that would allow her to throw the large red wolf off. She kept snagging her claws into Marek's fur and skin, pulling more blood with it, but still, he didn't budge. He didn't even flinch.

That was when a large drop of blood formed on the very tip of Marek's black nose. It hung there for a few seconds before splashing down onto Althea's own muzzle. It trickled down over her lip, splashing its coppery metallic taste onto her tongue. It was the most revolting thing she had ever tasted in her life, even worse than when she had sucked cut fingers into her mouth as a child to try and sooth them. Althea thought wolves were supposed to crave blood, but she didn't know what in the hell could have possibly been pleasing about that taste.

It was like someone had grabbed her and had shaken some sense into her. Althea was horrified, and everything became clear, driving anything that was left of her wolf from her mind. She stared up at Marek in dismay, trying to convey the sense of regret that she was feeling.

It was only then that Althea realized that the pain had stopped, and the sensation of pinpricks along her skin had subsided as well. The transformation had ended, and she had been so caught up in doing everything in her power to make it stop, she hadn't even realized when it had. Was that possible? That she had been so consumed with wanting to end it that her wolf had been able to break free for a few moments? Had been able to ignore the effects of the Wolfsbane potion? Had been able to take over her mind?

That scared Althea. Marek hadn't warned her about this. Or maybe he didn't know. Maybe there was something wrong with her wolf. Or maybe it was more powerful than his anyway, at least in terms of their minds. Then again, perhaps the problem was with her. Was Althea just unable to control her wolf because she was weak?

Althea decided that she was too exhausted to care just then anyway. It felt like she had just run a marathon. She wasn't in pain anymore, but she was so tired. Her muscles felt absolutely dead, and her body felt abnormally heavy, like it weighed a million pounds. Even her eyelids felt heavy, because they began to droop against her will.

Before she could pass out, Althea flicked out her tongue, laving it across Marek's bleeding mouth. The taste of his blood was like a punch in her stomach, one she had been anticipating, but it had seemed like the most natural action in the world to her. It was Althea's turn to whimper, trying to best to offer Marek her apologies for harming him.

Marek squinted his eyes and thrust his nose into hers, nuzzling it. That, however, was the last thing that Althea wanted. She felt horrible for hurting him, for making him bleed, and the last thing she deserved was his forgiveness. She simply pulled her nose away and tried to turn over. Marek let her go, finally standing up and releasing her limbs, albeit seemingly reluctantly.

Althea flipped over onto her right side, her back to Marek. She signed, not only from fatigue, but from absolute embarrassment over what had just transpired. Marek had been doing everything in his power to help her, to keep her safe. He had even thrown himself across her in an attempt to keep her own wolf from injuring her. He hadn't even been concerned about his own safety, just Althea's, and this was how she repaid him? By drawing blood?

Althea's vision had cleared, but then tears began to well up in her eyes. Through the veil of tears, Althea spotted her paw resting against the mound of messy blankets beneath her. It didn't even seem like it could belong to her, because once again, that was something that humans just didn't have. It felt completely foreign laying there, and Althea was afraid to move, because if she did, then she would know without a doubt that it was hers. She wasn't ready for that yet. Still wasn't ready for this to be completely real.

Her fur was grey, and Althea couldn't think of a more depressing color. Then again, she supposed it was appropriate, because that was how she felt at the moment - grey.

* * *

"Althea?"

Althea felt her shoulder being shaken, and she blinked her eyes open. The first thing she spotted was her hand, still thrown across the disarray of blankets before her. Only this time, it was actually her hand, not a paw, and she stared at it for a very long time, almost like she couldn't believe that it was back. She stretched her fingers out, watching as they responded to her movements, but then she regretted it. It awakened some dormant ache, sending a bolt of pain up through her arm. It had also taken a tremendous effort just to do that much, because it caused a wave of sleepiness to flow through her.

She continued to stare at her hand, at her very human hand like it was some kind of alien being. Had it really been a wolf's paw just last night? Had she transformed back into human form without it even waking her? And now all of that – the transformation and the wolf – seemed gone, just like a bad dream. Althea only wished it was, but she knew it wasn't. The soreness and stiffness in her joints was a testament to that. So was the fact that her hand didn't even feel like her own.

"Are you all right?

That was Marek again, fussing over her like she even deserved it. Althea was afraid to look at him, afraid to face him, to see the damage she had done to him. She already felt bad enough without needing the visual evidence shoved in her face.

Marek didn't seem to care. He placed a hand on her shoulder again, but this time, he used it to pull her over onto her back. That was when Althea couldn't deny what she had done anymore, because the proof was scrawled across Marek's otherwise handsome face. Three bloody scratches had been dug into his skin, running diagonally from his left cheek, across his lips, and down to the right side of his chin. They looked painful.

"How are you?" Marek asked again, apprehension flooding his voice. His eyes went up and down her body, looking any signs of injury. Some of Althea's hair had been matted down to her forehead with sweat. He pushed it away, then wiped her face dry. Why was he being so nice? Especially when he was the one that had been injured and not just her? Besides, everything had been Althea's own fault, so she should be the one taking care of him, and not the other way around.

Althea realized Marek was still waiting for an answer, so she tried her best to get her thoughts together. They were all in a jumble in her head. She wanted to apologize to him for hurting him, for wanting to be the one to spend the night in the same room together against Marek's own misgivings. He was the one that had the most experience with transforming, after all. She should have listened to him and not tried to change his mind. They'd both be better off for it.

At first, Althea was too embarrassed to talk about what she had done, so she settled on, "S-sore. Tired." Almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth, Althea regretted them. This should be about Marek, not her. "I'm sorry," she said hurriedly. She closed her eyes, unable to meet his gaze.

"For what?" Marek sounded genuinely shocked.

That made Althea feel worse. How could he seriously act like nothing had even happened? She hesitated for a long time before she forced herself to open her eyes and face him. This wasn't going to get any easier. Unable to speak, she reached up a hand, gently touching the very edge of one his cuts with her finger.

Marek flinched away, but gave her the best smile he could. "It's fine. They're just scratches."

"It's not fine!" Althea yelled, surprising both of them. She regretted that too, because even her throat hurt now, feeling impossibly dry and parched. Her breathing had become hard and heavy, her chest heaving with each one in and out. "They'll…scar. Werewolf wounds are cursed. I know nothing about this yet, but at least I know that much."

Marek's eyebrows went up like he was entirely surprised. "Don't you think I know that?" he asked in a teasing tone. "They're not the first scars I have, and they certainly won't be the last. It isn't the end of the world. Trust me."

Althea tried to blink back the tears that had suddenly accumulated in her eyes. "But on your face, Marek, where everyone can see. I'm so sorry. Especially when you didn't even want to transform together." Despite her best efforts to the contrary, Althea found her voice cracking. "I should have listened to you. I'm sorry," she said again. That seemed to be all she could say lately. She turned her face away in shame.

Marek placed a single finger underneath Althea's chin and tugged it back towards him, forcing her to look at him. "Hey," he said calmly, giving her another warm smile. "It really is fine." He shrugged and snorted. "So people will be even more freaked out by me than they already are, so what?"

At his words, Althea's bottom lip began to tremble, and she lost the battle to keep her tears inside. Several began spilling over the bottoms of her eyelids, dripping down her cheeks. "Marek…"

Marek moved his hand up, resting his finger over Althea's lips instead. "Althea, please don't apologize," he said firmly. "If this experience has taught me anything at all, it's that it really doesn't matter what other people think of me." He paused, letting out a soft breath. "It's going to sound cheesy, but the only thing that matters is what you think of yourself. I know who I am, and I know what I am, and if other people don't understand that…it's their problem. Not mine. So do I care that people may have another thing to ridicule me over? Hell no. Nor do I care all that much about what I look like. If anything, it was the werewolf who bit me in the first place that permanently disfigured me by making me what I am. Nothing I've done to myself as a result, and certainly nothing you've done could ever equate what he did to me. These were things we simply couldn't control, and this-" he gestured to his face, "is only superficial. It doesn't change who I am. It's nothing I could ever fault you for. Not when I've done the exact same things to myself."

Hesitating for a spilt second, Marek grasped the bottom hem of his t-shirt and pulled it up over his head. There were a few series of scars across his stomach, chest, and arms, but the worst one by far was a large and jagged scar that curved around his right collar bone. Marek laid his left hand over his right shoulder. "This is the bite. Everything else I've done to myself."

Her own shame momentarily forgotten, Althea asked, "Why?" Marek frowned in confusion, so she clarified, "We had the Wolfsbane. You said you've had it every single time, and that means we're supposed to be in control, right? So why would we…?"

"It has nothing to do with your wolf, I don't think." Marek drew himself up to his knees and leaned over Althea, pushing up her t-shirt from her stomach. He used his own shirt to dab at the scratches across Althea's abdomen. It stung, and she sucked in a quick breath.

"Sorry," he said, then quickly gestured to the scars on his body. "These all happened during my very first transformation, and as I said, it is the worst. That itchy feeling under your skin becomes absolutely unbearable, and for a very brief moment, I think you're completely in shock over the amount of pain you're in. You have no clue which way is even up, let alone are you capable of forming a coherent thought, except that you want it to stop. Trying to rip your skin off to get there seems like a completely normal thing to do, because I did it, too. Just for a few seconds right after the transformation ended, and then I realized exactly what it was I was doing, and I forced myself to stop. I haven't touched myself since, so I think it has little to do with your wolf, and more to do with what you've just been through." He smiled again, resting a hand on top of one of Althea's. "You're not crazy, and there's nothing wrong with either you or your wolf. It's normal. At least it was for me."

"So then you knew I would stop eventually," Althea said almost tonelessly. She thought Marek had gotten at least one thing right; she was in shock all right.

When Althea's cuts didn't show any sign of further bleeding, Marek seemed content in the fact that he wouldn't need to send for help, at least not immediately. He shifted his legs out from under him and found a more comfortable spot on the floor, staring across the room at the far wall for a moment. "I thought you would, but keep in mind, I'm only basing this off of what happened to me. I couldn't be sure, and I…didn't want you to hurt yourself any more than absolutely necessary. Not if I could stop it."

"You didn't have to," Althea said, then she sighed at the slightly hurt expression on Marek's face. "I appreciate it. I do. Hell, I appreciate everything you've done for me since I've met you. I don't know where I'd even be without you. I just…wish you didn't have to hurt yourself in the process." She turned her head to the side, away from his gaze. "I'm not really worth it," she mumbled.

"I think you are." Althea looked at him again, but Marek seemed to realize what he had just said, because he flushed. Clearing his throat, he hurriedly added, "Besides, I know this is an awful transformation all by itself. There's no need for it to be even worse."

"Even at the risk of making it worse on yourself."

"I've been through this before," Marek reminded her. "Nearly a year's worth of transformations by now. I'm used to the pain. A little more…no matter. This is still so new for you, and I just wanted to make it as easy for you as possible. That's all." He sounded apologetic, like he had done something wrong, and that made Althea feel guilty.

"I'm sorry," she repeated. Why in the hell couldn't she think of anything else to say?

Marek replaced a finger on her lips again. "I told you, there's no need to apologize. I…" He broke off, but then seemed to decide to forge on anyway, because he said, "I wouldn't have done it if you weren't worth it."

It was Althea's turn to blush. Again. "No," she said, "I mean…I'm not acting very grateful. And I am. Very much so. That someone saw fit to send a savior into my life exactly when I needed one."

Marek grinned. "I think you can thank my own savior for that. I don't think I'd be here if not for him. I seriously doubt that I'd be in a position to help anyone else out at any rate. I wouldn't even be willing to, I'm sure. I'd be absolutely bitter by now. In fact, I was bitter. It took him opening my eyes for me to see that my life wasn't over. But that wasn't the only thing he taught me. You want to know the real reason why the scars don't bother me?"

Althea swallowed hard and nodded.

"He told me that they weren't anything to be ashamed of," Marek explained. "That they were a sign of everything we've been able to survive. They show that we're strong, that we aren't going to let this condition destroy us. And that the people who do care about the scars don't matter, and the people who do matter won't care about them. That was coming from a man who had his own share of scars including three on his face." Marek placed the fingers of his left hand over his right eye and dragged them down across his nose and mouth, careful to avoid touching his own scars. "Right here." When he lowered his hand, he gripped Althea's hand with it once again. "I have nothing to be ashamed of, and neither do you."

Althea tried to push herself up into a sitting position, but as soon as she did, pain flared up all over her body again. She'd forgotten that everything still hurt. It was almost like when she'd first woken up after her bite, the pain lying dormant until the next time she moved. She froze and opened her mouth, letting out a soft whine.

"Careful," Marek warned. He snaked a hand under her back, using it to help her up.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Althea tried to ignore the pain, continuing to sit up. The more she was with Marek, the more determined she became to fight her way through this, to not just take what had been thrust upon her. To not lay on the ground when she could very well sit up. When she finally did succeed in getting off the floor, she paused, taking some deep and calming breaths.

"It'll be sore for another day or two," Marek explained, "and then next month will be much easier. I barely even give the pain a second thought anymore."

Althea had so much she still wanted to say. She felt like she should go on apologizing to Marek until the hippogriffs came home, even though he insisted that she didn't need to. That there was nothing to apologize for. She didn't want to keep telling her she was sorry anyway. Those two little words were beginning to feel so empty and generic to her. Instead, she only leaned into him like she had done so many times before, pressing her nose into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, beginning to rock her again just like he had done the night before.

They sat like that for a very long time, not even bothering to get up off the cold and hard stone floor. Althea's bottom and legs even began to protest against it, throbbing along with everything else. She knew that Marek must have also been in similar pain, but he didn't show it, and Althea was grateful for that. She kept wishing that if she hid her face against him long enough, things would go away. That this entire nightmare her life had become would disappear. After all, in Marek's arms, everything had a way of seeming okay and right. Sometimes Althea even felt normal again. But it wasn't enough.

It was to be the last time Marek would hold her.

_To be continued…_


	8. Chapter 8: Kiss With Destiny

**Shades of Grey: Althea's Story**  
Chapter 8 - Kiss with Destiny

Since Marek lived alone, he had arrangements with his healer, Anthony to come and check on him after every full moon. Normally, Anthony's services weren't required, but they both preferred to error on the side of caution. If something ever did happen to Marek during a transformation, there would be no one around to send for help, and no one to even know he was in trouble. Today was no exception. Even with two werewolves, it was safer to have Anthony stop by to check on them in the unlikely case that something happened to both of them.

Althea didn't mind. She rather liked Anthony. He was the nicest healer she'd met in her life, let alone since she'd been bitten, even more so than Healer Smethwyck who she'd met at St. Mungo's. Anthony had been specializing in lycanthropic patients for his entire career which amounted to over forty years, so Althea doubted that there were very many healers in the world who knew half as much as about werewolves as he did. Especially someone who wasn't a werewolf himself, and who couldn't be more sympathetic to his patients.

Anthony treated the scratches that Althea and Marek had sustained during the transformation. There was no way to stop them from scarring, of course, but at least he was able to close the wounds. In addition to the ones Althea inflicted on his face, she'd also put a few smaller ones on Marek's arms, legs, and stomach. He kept insisting that they weren't a big deal, that the scars didn't bother him, but Althea wasn't so sure.

She supposed she wasn't as well adjusted to the scarring as Marek was, and despite his reassurances to the contrary, Althea felt worse and worse about them. Marek had been nothing but nice to her, he'd been doing everything in his power to protect her, and she'd ended up putting permanent marks on him. In fact, even though she'd put them all over his body, it was the ones on his face that bothered her the most. The ones that were there for the entire world to see. They would be the very first things most people would notice when they looked at him, things they would undoubtedly think less of him for. Marek didn't deserve the life he already had to deal with, let alone being judged by people for being disfigured on top of it all.

If only Althea had listened to him when he said he wanted to spend the full moon in separate rooms. He'd been dealing with this condition for almost a year. He knew plenty more about it than Althea did, and she should have trusted his judgement, should have believed him when he said it was safer that way. It was all down to Althea's own selfishness that she'd tried to change his mind. Because _she_ didn't want to be alone for the transformation. Marek had given in to make things as comfortable as possible for her, and it was against his own misgivings about the matter. And she'd hurt him, the physical evidence of which would remain on his face forever. How could she ever forgive herself for that? How could she even stand to look at him when doing so only served to remind Althea of what she had done?

If she was honest with herself, perhaps the worst part of it wasn't even the fact that she had hurt Marek. It was the fact that doing so made Althea feel all the more like an animal. Marek could tell her till he was blue in the face - and he had been - that it had nothing to do with Althea, that it had been out of her control at the time, but that didn't really make her feel any better. She'd still done it, and whatever the reasons or circumstances surrounding it, it made her feel horrible.

The really insane thing was that she thought she could understand why so many people considered her a monster now. Why so many people distrusted her. She'd hurt who was the most important person in her life right now against her own will. Wasn't that something a monster would do? And if that was how she treated Marek, what if something happened with someone she disliked, and she lost her temper with them? Althea didn't even think she could trust herself anymore, let alone trust herself around other people, so how could she expect humans to? Of course they'd want werewolves off the streets. They only wanted this to be a safe world. How could she hold that against them?

"Merlin," Althea muttered to herself, placing a hand over her eyes, "I'm werewolf phobic." She was laying on one of the sofas in Marek's sitting room. Marek had started a fire in the fireplace and had tucked a warm and soft blanket around Althea, all of which had made the aching in her muscles subside. Marek obviously knew exactly all the right things to do, because Althea already felt much better than she had when she'd woken up just a few hours ago. Except for her emotional state. She kept beating herself up over what she'd done, and the fact that Marek was still taking care of her. It just wasn't right!

"What?" Marek asked, entering the room from the kitchen. He was carrying a tray with a couple of steaming mugs on it which he then set down on the coffee table.

"N-nothing," Althea said quickly. She certainly didn't want Marek to know what she'd just said.

Marek stood and stared at her for a long time. Finally, he sat down on the coffee table facing her. He picked up one of the steaming mugs and held it out to her. "Hot chocolate," he said. "It'll make you feel better."

Althea slowly got her arms under her and pushed herself up, grimacing as she went. As long as she was still, she wasn't in any pain; it was only when she moved that her muscles and joints seemed to explode, a staunch reminder of what she had just been through. When she was finally sitting up, she reluctantly took the cup that Marek offered her. It made her feel awful every time he did something nice for her, when he acted like she'd done nothing wrong.

Althea knew Marek was too nice for it, but perhaps it would be better if he did blame her. If he yelled at her about it for a bit, told her that she ruined his otherwise handsome face. At least that might ease some of Althea's guilt. As it was, Marek's nonchalant attitude about the whole thing was somewhat maddening. If someone permanently disfigured her, Althea didn't think she'd be so quick to forgive them, or that she'd be able to accept it so easily. Maybe that was just a sign of how much better Marek was than her.

The three scars stood out on Marek's face, milky white against his slightly darker skin. They ran from the bottom part of Marek's left cheek, across his lips, and down to the right side of his chin. Every time Althea looked at him, everything from the night before came flooding back to her, and it made her want to be sick to her stomach. She didn't know how she was going to continue to live with him when she felt that way.

Marek picked up his own mug of hot chocolate from the tray and began to sip at it. Althea did the same, even though her stomach was in a million knots and it didn't seem that accepting of any food or drink at the moment. Things were awkwardly quiet between them before Althea pointed out, "You've been on your feet all morning. I hate to think that you haven't been able to rest yet because you've been looking after me."

Marek smiled and shook his head. "It isn't because of you. I told you, I hardly even give the pain a second thought anymore."

"But you also said that a nap afterwards does you a world of good," Althea said. "That makes me think that you normally do take one."

Marek shrugged, giving her an odd look. "Sometimes, but not always. Every moon is different, it just depends on how I feel in the morning. This month just happened to be an easy one." He continued to watch her closely and then he added, "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to get rid of me."

There was that pesky blush, flaring up in Althea's cheeks once more. She stared down at her mug of hot chocolate, pretending to be fascinated by the pillars of steam curling up from the dark brown surface. "I'm not. I just want to make sure you're taking care of yourself, that's all." She glanced up at him again, this time apologetically. "I don't want you to neglect your own health just because you have to take care of me now."

"I'm not," Marek replied firmly. "Not at all. I've been dealing with this for a year. I can tell how my body's coping with it and how much rest it needs. I'm not neglecting myself. Trust me, okay?"

Althea smiled and nodded, because she did trust him. Implicitly. Althea almost couldn't believe it - that this man she had only known for the span of three weeks could have gained so much of her trust, but he had. Perhaps being a werewolf did have its perks, because Althea had never felt so comfortable with anyone so quickly in her life. It was simply the fact that they shared something that not many people could understand that gave them such a strong and fast bond.

Marek smirked. "Besides, I don't really need to take care of you, now do I? I've known that from the moment I took you in. You don't really need anyone to take care of you. If you were forced to survive on your own, you could do it. I know you could, because you have a survival instinct in you. One that I haven't seen in a lot of other people. I'm just helping you along a little bit. That's all."

Althea smiled again, not able to take her eyes off of the mug in her hands. It was an almost painful expression, because there were things going through her mind - thoughts that had been awakened by something that Marek had said, and things that she didn't want him to know. She had the irrational fear that if she met his gaze, he'd be able to read them in her eyes.

"But maybe I will lay down," Marek said. He sounded uncomfortable, like he didn't like the way this conversation was going. Truthfully, neither did Althea. "If only to give you some peace and quiet so you can rest. Are you sure you don't want to take the bed? I can lay down out here."

Althea shook her head, and then she gestured to the fireplace. "I like being by the fire. The warmth helps the pain."

"Okay." Marek stood up, still holding his cup of hot chocolate in one hand. He leaned over Althea and with his other hand, he smoothed back some of the hair from her forehead. "Don't even give it a second thought. Because I haven't."

Marek stayed rooted to his spot for several seconds. It seemed like he was going to say something or do something further, but he didn't. Eventually, he simply cupped her cheek before turning and retreating into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Althea was left alone in silence, with no company save for the roaring fire just across the room. She sighed before continuing to sip at her hot chocolate. She knew the thoughts she was having were completely moronic, but just like a lot of things since she'd been bitten, it almost seemed perfectly logical to her at the same time. She didn't want to act on them, because somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she'd be setting herself up for disaster, but then again, another part of her felt like it didn't have a choice. Desperate times called for desperate measures, after all.

Finishing her hot chocolate, Althea set her mug down on the coffee table. She laid back down and pulled the covers tightly around her again, deciding to sleep on it. She was still feeling exhausted and achy from her transformation, and she hoped that when she woke, she would be able to write her idea off for exactly what it was - absurd.

* * *

When Althea awoke again, it was to a quiet roaring sound. Marek was standing before the fireplace, using his wand to increase the flames in the slowly dying fire. Althea yawned and stretched, and Marek looked back at the sound.

"Sorry," he said, "did I wake you?" Althea nodded, so he apologized again. "I wanted to make sure you were warm enough." He turned to fully face her, suddenly switching his wands in between his hands uncomfortably. It was like he didn't know what to do with it. Almost as if he was nervous. "How do you feel?"

"Better," she said quietly, stretching again to test out any possible aches remaining in her muscles. She was still a little uncomfortable, but not really in any pain. Unfortunately, that idea that she had fallen asleep with, the one that she had hoped would have fled her mind by now, was still there. In the back of her mind like a dirty little secret. "Just a bit stiff, I think."

Marek grinned proudly, unaware of what she was currently pondering. "Told you a cup of hot chocolate and a nap do you a world of good."

"How long was I asleep?"

Marek glanced over the couch at the desk on the other side of the room, squinting his eyes at it. "Almost four hours. It's nearly two in the afternoon." When his words were met with silence, he kept talking, like he was trying to keep the room from getting too quiet, too uncomfortable. "I thought I'd go down to the market." His face suddenly turned bright red, a color that rivaled his hair. They both knew that he went to the market everyday. He rolled his eyes in embarrassment. "Obviously. But I thought we might have something special today. You know, as a bit of a celebration for having this moon out of the way." He made a face, like he had just realized how that could be interpreted. "I know that sounds demented. Like we're celebrating that we're werewolves or something. It sounded a lot less weird in my head, believe me."

Marek was rambling. He never rambled. At least, not that Althea had ever heard him. Their friendship had always come so easily to them, right from the start. Why was Marek acting like he didn't know what to say around her? When had things gotten like this between them?

"Oh." As it turned out, Althea wasn't exactly sure what to say herself. "Er…" she tried, "if you want. To have something special, I mean. I just…wish you wouldn't spend the money on me. Not when things are already so tight for you."

Marek shrugged. "It's not just for you. It's for both of us. I think we both deserve it after what we've been through." Althea diverted her gaze in shame, and Marek pressed a hand over his face. "That's not what I meant." He growled in frustration, peeking out at Althea from behind his fingers. "I don't feel that way. You know I don't." When Althea still didn't look convinced, Marek sighed. He moved forward and stepped around the coffee table. He sat down on it facing Althea and grasped her hand in his. "Althea, listen to me. I don't know how many different ways I can say it. I don't blame you. You may think you're responsible, because you wanted to spend the night in the same room. The truth of the matter is, I knew exactly what could happen. As I said, I've been dealing with this for nearly a year. I know a thing or two about it. When I gave into your request, it was a very real possibility that something could happen to one or both of us. I took that chance regardless. I did it because I wanted to protect you." Squeezing her hand, he pulled it a little bit closer to his chest. "Your safety was that important to me."

They stared at each other for a very long time. Althea felt uncomfortable again, but not in the way she had been before. Her heart was suddenly pounding erratically against her ribs, and she was almost afraid that Marek would hear it. Her palm felt sweaty clutched inside Marek's hand, and she was worried that he'd feel that, too.

Marek opened his mouth again, but instead of saying anything, he simply drew in a sharp breath. He bowed his head, looking down at his shoes. "It just is," he added after a while, "and I don't regret it. No matter what happened." Finally, he met her gaze again. The only sound in the room was that of the crackling flames in the fireplace, but Althea was sure that the continually fast beating of her heart was drowning that out. Marek began leaning forward, but he paused before he got too close. He gave Althea a questioning look.

Althea didn't stop him. And perhaps she should have. Not because she didn't want to kiss him. She wanted this perhaps more than she wanted anything in her entire life, except maybe a cure for her lycanthropy. She thought she'd been crushing on Marek since she met him in St. Mungo's. Only now, she thought what she was feeling for him went way beyond that of a crush, and this was the first time she was truly admitting it to herself.

If she was completely honest, she thought she was falling in love with Marek. If that was even possible when she'd barely known him for a month. Her mother probably would have laughed and said she was being silly. But her mother wasn't here, and Althea knew she wasn't being silly. She'd had crushes here and there throughout her years at school, but she was positive she'd never felt anything this intense before. In any event, she knew that her feelings for him went beyond those of friendship, so his advances weren't unwelcome. Not in the least.

The problem was that Althea knew this couldn't go anywhere good. They were both werewolves, one of whom was dirt poor and the other barely had two Galleons to rub together. They had nothing to offer each other, and they hardly had enough money to support one person, let alone two. Althea had already hurt him once, and no matter how much Marek tried to assuage her fears, Althea would always blame herself. Moreover, what if something else happened? What if she hurt him next full moon, or worse yet, what if he hurt her? They couldn't possibly be good for each other. Or for anyone.

Althea was certain they were getting into very dangerous territory here, but she didn't want to stop him. All her life, she'd been following the rules, doing what she thought she was supposed to do. Just once, she wanted to be able to do something for herself. To let herself have something she truly wanted, and right now, that something was Marek.

He drew closer still, and now Althea could also hear his breathing, soft and ragged over his lips. He hesitated again, pressing his lips together and swallowing. He gave her one last look, as if further asking her permission. When she did nothing to object, he finally closed the remaining distance between them. Very gently, he laid his lips over hers. He drew back slightly, almost like he'd been burned, and then Althea did open her mouth in a sound of protest. She, however, was silenced again when Marek placed his free hand against her cheek and kissed her again. Almost immediately, he deepened the kiss, and Althea placed her own free hand against his cheek in return.

Althea realized she could feel his scars, the ones she had inflicted upon him. They stood out from his skin and ran across his lips and mouth, and she could make out every single one of them. She began kissing him back, imagining that she was healing each one of those imperfections as she moved her lips across them. If only she really could do that, if only she really could erase them from his skin forever. Take back the irreversible damage she had done to him.

All too soon, Marek had pulled away, bringing Althea's first kiss to an end. They were both breathing heavily now, and Althea felt certain that her heart might just beat right out of her chest. Marek smiled, giving her another questioning look, as if he was asking if what had just happened was okay. Althea grinned at his uncertainty before leaning her forehead against Marek's, hoping that that would answer his unspoken question.

Marek let out a soft breath of laughter. "I think we definitely need a special meal to celebrate now." Althea giggled, and Marek released his hold on her, thrusting his chin out proudly. "Besides, I might not be poor for that much longer."

Althea frowned. "What do you mean?"

Marek bit his bottom lip in apprehension. "I know I'm getting ridiculously ahead of myself, but when I was taking a nap earlier…I got an idea for another novel. It just sort of hit me. Like they all have, I guess, but…I have a really good feeling about this one." He snorted. "I still have to write it, of course, but…this one feels different. Different than anything else I've written since I was bitten. It almost feels like those ideas did." He turned his head to the left, glancing in the direction of his already published books. "Maybe all the ones I've come up with since my bite just weren't good enough, clouded too much by my misery, and that's why they weren't being published. I don't know, but whatever the reason, I know I can do it again, and I know this is the idea I needed." When he looked at her again, his blue eyes were positively dancing with excitement. "I'm going to do it, Althea. I'm going to publish a novel again. This time as a werewolf, and maybe it'll be the first step in getting people to accept us a little bit more."

Althea raised a hand to his face again, but this time, she used one finger to push a strand of his hair out of his eyes. "I know you can," she said encouragingly.

"Maybe in a few years' time," Marek said, "we'll actually have some money. We won't be struggling so much."

They both knew what he said - we. Like they might actually still be living together that far in the future. Althea knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that that was precisely what he had meant to say; it wasn't a slip of the tongue, and it wasn't a mistake. She didn't miss the desire, the yearning in his voice, and that warmed her heart, but she couldn't help but wonder if he was getting way too far ahead of himself. He had no idea what was going to happen tomorrow, let alone next week, or next month, or a year from now. He had no idea of the thoughts that were currently swirling around in Althea's mind. Ones that made her wonder if she should be encouraging him.

Marek was almost bouncing up and down in his spot, and that was when Althea felt horribly guilty. She had never been one to lead people on, but that was what she felt like she was doing now.

Marek was too caught up in his momentary excitement to notice the expression on her face. "So how about it?" he asked. "Something nice for dinner. Whatever you want."

Althea blinked. "Oh. I don't know…" She made a face. "It's really hard to think about that sort of thing when I haven't been all that hungry lately."

"Your favorite food then," Marek said decisively. "I'll get it, whatever it is. That'll have to make you at least a little hungry."

"Chicken," Althea replied slowly. "It's chicken."

"Chicken it is." Marek leaned forward again, kissing her one last time. "I'll be right back."

Before Althea even had time to register what was happening, Marek had sprung to his feet. He hurried over to the door where he grabbed up his traveling cloak from the coat rack. Wrapping it around his shoulders, he gave Althea a huge smile before pulling the door open and disappearing from sight.

It was the last time Althea would see him, because she knew what she had to do.

_To be continued…_


End file.
